Introduction

A neighborhood meeting in a small, stuffy cellar reveals much about everyday life in a socialist-era apartment complex. Residents, anxious to return home, debate their shared responsibilities. Yet, for many, “home” is only those few square meters behind their apartment door—excluding the common corridors, entryways, stroller storage, laundry rooms, and communal grounds. These overlooked spaces form the backbone of shared living and everyday care within socialist housing.

A Brief Historical Context

In 2015, researchers like Martin Hejl sought to capture the story of Czechoslovakia’s ambitious state-led housing projects by collecting data on 100 years of building history. Especially in Slovakia, housing historians have studied these “panelák” estates primarily by considering their architectural merits and political backdrop. However, architecture is more than design and form—it’s about ongoing use, maintenance, and the everyday practices of those who live there.

The Prism of Care

Drawing on thinkers such as Angelika Fitz, Elke Krasny, Hillary Sample, and Shannon Mattern, Spolka approaches socialist housing “through the prism of care.” How was care embedded into the planning, construction, and use of these buildings? And, looking forward, how can architecture support caring relationships between people and the planet?

Research began with historical documents and public debates but quickly moved to people’s lived experiences. A survey of 71 residents from eight Košice housing estates, coupled with follow-up visits to five estates, allowed researchers to capture not only the facts but also personal stories and caring practices in these spaces. Residents’ voices are woven throughout, reminding us that housing is always both personal and communal.

The Socialist Housing Ideal

After an initial flirtation with the heavy aesthetic of socialist realism, Czechoslovakia’s leadership declared a new, ambitious housing policy in the 1950s and 1960s: “housing for all,” aiming to build one million new flats by 1970. But good housing, in socialist discourse, meant more than just roofs over heads. Planners aspired to provide healthy, supportive surroundings, green areas, and easy service access. The guiding ideal became “living well,” which transcended basic dwelling to include relaxation, study, culture, and shared civic life.

Urban design reflected this vision. New neighborhoods mixed buildings of varied height and length, embedded in greenery. Lower buildings housed civic amenities, anchoring each precinct. While driven by centralized planning, the process included consultation with residents and, in some cases, direct participation in construction and ongoing organizational management.

Common Spaces, Shared Responsibilities

Within the housing blocks, spaces like laundry rooms, stroller rooms, meeting rooms, and shared yards provided opportunities for collectivity and care. While the apartment itself offered private retreat, these shared zones mediated social life and daily needs. The role of care extended beyond family walls—encompassing neighbors, maintenance, and the stewardship of collective resources.

Still, shared responsibility was a delicate matter. As evidenced by the cellar meeting, not every resident embraced communal life. Discomfort with collective spaces—due to neglect, lack of ownership, or social tensions—sometimes led to their exclusion from the idea of “home.” Yet, certain residents/living arrangements flourished: some formed cleaning and repair teams, others established informal rituals, like sharing benches or flowers in the entryway garden.

Caring Practices: Stories from Residents

The article’s resident interviews revealed a continuum of attitudes toward care. Some spoke fondly of the “caretaker lady” who maintained order and memory within the block. Others lamented the slow decline of shared spaces, the waning of neighborly ties, or the conversion of common rooms into storage. Individuals’ willingness to care was resisted or enhanced by the physical structure, social dynamics, and institutional rules of the housing block.

Residents’ narratives bring nuance to our understanding of collectivism: While socialist housing aimed to foster community, its architecture sometimes unintentionally cultivated withdrawal and individualism. The ideal of living together, sharing responsibility for cleaning, gardening, and child-rearing, clashed at times with practical obstacles or different expectations.

Material and Social Transformation

Buildings—like the people who inhabit them—change over time. The article notes how materials degrade, maintenance falters, or spaces are repurposed, reshaping collective life. Meanwhile, privatization, post-socialist policies, and new lifestyles have further altered the landscape. Today, some buildings still have functioning laundry rooms and stroller rooms; others have lost these features or seen them adapted for new uses.

Yet, caring practices persist in new forms. Residents install benches in gardens, repaint hallways together, or organize meetings to debate repairs—even if begrudgingly. These small acts of maintenance, conversation, and mutual aid continue to animate the architecture.

Conclusion: Lessons in Caring Architecture

By centering the question of care—both for buildings and for each other—Spolka’s research asks architecture to do more than provide shelter. They invite us to see housing as an unfinished process: not only designed but lived, maintained, negotiated, and transformed by daily life.

Socialist housing embodies both the promise and the limits of caring architecture. Its common spaces provide the infrastructure for solidarity, but also reveal the work needed to sustain it. As society faces new challenges—social fragmentation, planetary crises—these lessons matter more than ever.

How can architecture foster care? By designing for shared use, supporting self-organization, and respecting everyday rituals of maintenance. In doing so, both buildings and communities become resilient, sustaining not just themselves but the broader world.

References:

Based on interviews, historical research, and inspiration from contemporary architectural theorists, Spolka’s study offers both a critical history and a living record of care in socialist housing. Through the voices and practices of residents, it keeps alive the vision of housing as a collective, caring endeavor.

This is a condensed version of an essay written by Spolka (Lýdia Grešáková, Viktória Mravčáková, Katarína Onderková, Zuzana Révészová, Kristina Roman) for the book "Restart: Transformations of Modeen Housing Estates". The book can be ordered from the Estonian Museum of Architecture.