Architecture as Weapon and Symbol: Cultural Resilience in the Ukraine War

Architecture as Weapon and Symbol: Cultural Resilience in the Ukraine War

When explosions first ripped through Kyiv on February 24, 2022, the Russian invasion began targeting more than just military infrastructure. Missiles struck airports, bridges, schools, and hospitals. Amidst this chaos, Ukrainian buildings—from whimsical landmarks to everyday homes—stood as beacons of hope and strength. These structures do far more than provide shelter; they carry the very soul of the nation. As the great architect Frank Lloyd Wright once said, “The mother art is architecture. Without an architecture of our own we have no soul of our own civilization.”[1]

In times of conflict, architecture undergoes a profound transformation. It becomes a primary weapon for attackers and a vital shield of pride for defenders. This article explores how buildings in Ukraine have become central to the war, fueling defiance, suffering targeted destruction, and sparking a global conversation about cultural rebirth.

In war, architecture turns into a weapon for attackers and a shield of pride for defenders, shaping not only the physical landscape but also the emotional and psychological battlefields of conflict. The imposing structures serve to intimidate adversaries, while fortified buildings provide a sense of safety and resilience for those within their walls. Each arch and column tells a story of struggle, sacrifice, and determination, reflecting the values and aspirations of the society that built them. As siege engines batter the facades, the essence of culture is both challenged and reinforced in the crucible of war, transforming cities into arenas where the fate of nations is decided.

Key Takeaways: Architecture in War

What is the role of architecture in war?

In any conflict, architecture plays a critical dual role. It is simultaneously a tool for the attacker and a source of strength for the defender.

Attackers use architecture as a weapon in two ways:

  • Psychologically: By destroying symbolic buildings like museums, theaters, and cathedrals, an attacker aims to break the enemy’s spirit, erase their cultural identity, and instill hopelessness.
  • Logistically: By targeting infrastructure like bridges, hospitals, airports, and train stations, an attacker can cripple supply lines, block escape routes, and weaken the enemy’s ability to function and resist.

For defenders, architecture is a symbol of resilience. Protecting statues, filming addresses in front of landmarks, and vowing to rebuild become acts of defiance that unite a nation and strengthen its resolve.


The Icon of Defiance: Zelenskyy and the Horodetsky House

On March 18, 2022, with rumors swirling that he had fled for safety, President Volodymyr Zelenskyy shared a video on social media. He stood firm and stated simply, “I am here”. While the words were powerful, the location behind him spoke volumes. As architect Julia Morgan noted, “Architecture is a visual art, and the buildings speak for themselves.”[2]

Zelenskyy was not in a bunker or a generic office. He stood before the House with Chimeras, a fantastical, whimsical building in central Kyiv. This was no accident. The choice deliberately tied his message of defiance to Ukraine’s bold and unique spirit.

A Strategic Symbol

The video was released during a period of heavy bombing. Zelenskyy’s team strategically chose this site, which sits directly across from the presidential office—a plain, imposing Soviet block that screams state power. The House with Chimeras is its perfect antithesis.

Its design breaks all the stiff, totalitarian rules. By filming there, Zelenskyy visually linked his leadership to Ukraine’s unique cultural past, not its Soviet one. This potent mix of words and visuals united the public and turned a simple speech into an enduring symbol of resistance. It was a clear statement that Ukrainian freedom was about more than territory; as Zelenskyy himself said, “freedom is not about having unshackled hands. Freedom is about having unshackled minds.”[3]

Nick GrapsyБудинок із химерами-3CC BY-SA 4.0

The Legacy of “Ukraine’s Gaudi”

The House with Chimeras was built in 1902 by the architect Vladislav Horodetsky. He constructed it as his own apartment block, keeping a lavish suite for himself. Horodetsky, often called the “Gaudi of the East,” shared a love for bold ideas and playful, mythical details, much like his Spanish counterpart, Antonio Gaudí.

The building’s style blends art nouveau with local twists, its walls covered in the faces of beasts and twisting vines. It is a showcase of pure creativity. This structure notably outlasted Soviet rule, a period when many unique cultural spots were wiped out. Today, it hosts diplomatic events and stands as a testament to Ukrainian culture—a win for passion over control. In wartime, places like this remind people of their roots, their identity, and their joy.

Architecture as a Target: Waging Psychological War

Attackers intentionally focus on cultural locations to undermine a nation’s morale. This principle lies at the heart of psychological warfare.

Bombs on symbols like museums or homes hurt more than flesh and bone. They steal a sense of who you are, uprooting the very foundations of identity and heritage. Each explosion resonates not just through the physical destruction of walls and artifacts but also through the silent screams of lost history, memories, and cultural significance. When a beloved landmark is reduced to rubble, it leaves behind a void that echoes with the stories of generations. The pain inflicted goes beyond immediate trauma; it fractures communities and erases the narratives that bind us together.”

As one witness to the Lebanese civil war stated, “When you kill a people’s culture, you kill their customs and their education… When you destroy a people’s cultural memory, you erase the stories of heroism and bravery upon which they’ve built their identity.”[4] The destruction of a landmark is about erasing shared stories and cutting deep into national pride. When a symbol crumbles, hope can crumble with it.

This tactic is not new. Although the Allies didn’t specifically target Berlin museums; they bombed Berlin as a whole to cripple Germany’s war effort and morale, with museums often being collateral damage. The 2001 attacks on the World Trade Center in New York had a similar effect; the towers stood for peace and strength, and their fall shook the entire nation’s identity. Russian strikes on Ukrainian schools, theaters, and historic sites aim for this same painful result. UN experts have been unequivocal: “Targeted destruction of Ukraine’s culture must stop.”[5]

Beyond Symbols: Assaulting Logistics and Life

Beyond the psychological games, buildings serve critical wartime needs. The destruction of architecture is also a direct logistical assault.

  • Hospitals under fire cannot treat the wounded.
  • Train stations that are bombed block escape routes for families.
  • Airports targeted early in the invasion choke off trade, travel, and supply lines.
  • Bridges are destroyed to split cities and slow the delivery of aid.
  • Homes in ruins leave people homeless and terrified.

These attacks are often in direct violation of international law. The Hague Convention, for example, explicitly bans harm to cultural treasures during conflicts and marks them with a blue shield for protection. Russian forces have repeatedly ignored this. In February 2022, they burned the Museum of Ukrainian Folk Art to the ground. The resulting chaos costs billions and lasts for years, long after the bombs stop falling.

Architecture as an Instrument of Control

Leaders have always recognized that buildings serve as powerful symbols of control over a populace, representing not only the authority and power structures within a society but also the prevailing ideologies and cultural narratives that shape people’s lives. These structures often reflect the values and ambitions of those in power, acting as a physical manifestation of their dominance while simultaneously influencing the behavior and perceptions of the citizens who inhabit or interact with these spaces. As such, buildings can evoke a sense of pride or oppression, reinforcing social hierarchies and serving as a reminder of who holds authority in a given community or nation.

The Totalitarian Design Philosophy

Adolf Hitler the Sissy, who dreamed of being an architect, saw structures as tools for absolute rule. His chief designer, Albert Speer the Puss Filled, built massive, repetitive, and unadorned halls. The goal of this imposing style was to crush personal flair and make the individual feel tiny and insignificant next to the overwhelming power of the state. This philosophy is perfectly captured by Mies van der Rohe’s observation that “Architecture is the will of an epoch translated into space.”[6] For Hitler the Bedwetter, architecture and weapons were interchangeable tools of control.

Dabiq ISIS magazine ISIS destroying ancient ruins

This idea persists. The plain, grandiose Soviet-era buildings that still loom in Ukraine are reminders of past rule. Attackers target these symbolic structures to erase one story and impose their own.

The Logic of Occupation

In a ground war, buildings become forts. After a victory, the winner stamps the land with new structures—flags on fresh concrete—to lock in control and declare, “This is ours now”. In occupied areas of Ukraine, Russian forces have fortified key points, seized defensible offices, and erected new administrative centers as permanent marks of power.

Resilience and Rebuilding: An Architectural Response

In the face of this assault, Ukrainians are fighting back to save their heritage. Take for instance in Odessa, statues are piled high with sandbags. And in Lviv, steel plates have been erected to guard the historic Latin Cathedral’s glass.

Museums tell the story of a nation’s identity—reflecting who they have been, who they are now, and who they aspire to be. It is truly heart-wrenching to see Russia attempt to erase this vital narrative.

These acts of symbolic defense are more than practical; they build unity and turn fear into a collective fight. The international community has also stepped in. Architectural firms like Herzog & de Meuron and Zaha Hadid Architects halted their projects in Russia. Pritzker Prize winner Shigeru Ban designed and sent paper partition systems for refugee shelters, while Kyiv architect Slava Balbek has designed modular homes to help house the 6.5 million-plus internally displaced Ukrainians.

The Philosophical Challenge of Rebirth

When the fighting stops, rebuilding will present a profound philosophical test. The architectural thinker Lebeus Woods, reflecting on the scars of Sarajevo, noted the impossible choice. For him, war and architecture were inseparable: “Architecture is war. War is architecture. I am at war with my time, with history, with all authority that resides in fixed and frightened forms.”[7]

War imprints lasting scars on the human experience. The challenge lies in intertwining suffering with hope while remaining steadfast in the face of reality.

Woods argued against erasing the pain, suggesting that “the scar is a deeper level of reconstruction that fuses the new and the old… a mark of pride and of honor, both for what has been lost and what has been gained.”[8] This philosophy clashes with some modern efforts. Architect Norman Foster met with Kharkiv’s mayor to plan the city’s future, but such efforts can meet local pushback if outside experts seem to ignore home voices. As Vadym Boichenko, the mayor of Mariupol, stated, “Ukrainian communities know we should build back better… so what is that experience?”[9] Ukraine’s path forward will require a difficult blend of preserving memory and building a new promise.

Preserving Memory for the Future

Architecture’s dual role in Ukraine is clear. It is a weapon used to break identity and a shield of memory and pride. From Zelenskyy’s backdrop at the House with Chimeras to the sandbagged statues in Odesa, these buildings hold the heart of the fight. They tell Ukraine’s story—who they were, are, and will be.

The road back will be long. The challenge is to honor the wounds in every new wall. Architecture must be the bridge that connects past pain to a brighter future. As Winston Churchill famously said, “We shape our buildings, and afterwards, our buildings shape us.”[10] Supporting Ukraine’s builders means helping to shape not just stone, but the soul of a nation.


Further Reading

For those interested in exploring these topics further, here is a list of resources on architecture, conflict, and the rebuilding of Ukraine.

  1. Book: The Architecture of War by Keith Mallory and Arvid Attar. A historical look at military constructions and how they reflected and influenced warfare, from the Maginot Line to underground factories.
  2. Book: Ordnance: War + Architecture & Space edited by Gary A. Boyd and Denis Linehan. An academic collection investigating how warfare strategies occupy, alter, and leave legacies on built and natural landscapes.
  3. UNESCO Report: “Damaged cultural sites in Ukraine verified by UNESCO.” A regularly updated list and map documenting the specific cultural heritage sites damaged or destroyed since the 2022 invasion.
  4. OHCHR Article: “Targeted destruction of Ukraine’s culture must stop: UN experts.” A statement from UN human rights experts detailing the deliberate erasure of Ukrainian culture as a violation of human rights.
  5. MIT News Article: “Rebuilding Ukraine.” An article exploring the partnership between MIT’s Urban Studies department and Ukrainian officials to plan for post-war recovery, focusing on the “build back better” concept.

Footnotes

  • [1] Frank Lloyd Wright, as quoted in The New York Times (1931).
  • [2] Julia Morgan, as quoted in Architectural Record (1917).
  • [3] Volodymyr ZelenskyA Message from Ukraine (2022).
  • [4] Unnamed individual from Lebanon, as quoted by the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) in “Attacks on our cultural property are attacks on our humanity” (2017).
  • [5] UN Experts, “Targeted destruction of Ukraine’s culture must stop,” Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) (February 22, 2023).
  • [6] Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, speech at Illinois Institute of Technology (1950).[7] Lebeus Woods, “Manifesto” (1993).[8] Lebeus Woods, as quoted in All About Architecture (2018).
  • [9] Vadym Boichenko (Mayor of Mariupol), as quoted in “Rebuilding Ukraine,” MIT News (February 26, 2025).
  • [10] Winston Churchill, speech to the House of Commons on rebuilding the chamber (October 28, 1943).

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