From ‘White Coal’ to Energy Futures:
The Palimpsest of Swiss Energy Landscapes
Throughout the twentieth century, electricity supply, transmission and consumption in Switzerland have been profoundly influenced by and have, in turn, shaped new architectural designs, urban developments and infrastructural systems. The generation and utilisation of hydropower have assumed a pivotal role, owing to Switzerland’s unique topographical and hydrological features, particularly the Alps, which function as significant regulators of weather and local climate. Historically, the Swiss confederation, encompassing both communities and corporations has adeptly capitalised on this geographic advantage to create production conditions, particularly within the cement and machine industry, thereby facilitating their expansion in ways that surpass those of neighbouring countries. This transition towards hydropower, which embodies a sociotechnical transformation, should be understood within the context of a diverse energy portfolio that initially included coal, followed by various fossil fuels and nuclear power. The intricate relationship between energy and landscape highlights the relevance of geographical concepts such as territoriality in comprehending the complexities of Switzerland’s energy landscape.
It is particularly striking that energy is not addressed with any significance in ‘The Land as Palimpsest’, a seminal text in Swiss landscape theory by André Corboz and first published in 1983. At that time, Corboz was a professor of the history of urban design at the ETH Zurich. He conceptualised land and territory as extending beyond conventional notions of untouched nature and regarded landscape, in relation to the transformation of the earth into territory, as a superimposed, palimpsestic attribution of meaning. After presenting definitions from legal and developmental perspectives, and emphasising scientific and humanistic dimensions, Corboz ultimately proposed a new definition rooted in the observation that Switzerland is entirely urbanised. This perspective does not necessitate the elimination of the contrast between urban and rural settings but instead highlights the relationship between the metropolis and its hinterland. Despite his critique of mapping and the subsequent reification of land, the text concluded on an optimistic note, remaining open-ended in its implications.
If energy – encompassing its production, distribution and consumption – has historically occurred at various scales and has been shaped and mediated through the landscape, within the framework of municipal, cantonal or state governance as well as through privatisation, what would be required to supplement Corboz’s work with a chapter dedicated to the Swiss energy landscape? How can the geography of energy transition, past and present – specifically regarding the engineering and operationalisation of energy sources such as hydropower – along with its spatial dimensions across multiple scales, contribute to the broader initiative of sustaining energy futures while reducing carbon emissions formulated in Switzerland as ‘Energieperspektiven 2050+’? How does this relate to the demand for and promotion of a transition in the way we build? Furthermore, what would a progressive approach to energy landscapes resemble from the perspective of energy humanities? This perspective would advocate for energy infrastructures, regimes and systems of the future to be designed as participatory, equitable and sustainable.
In the context of climate emergency, a geographical and economic perspective is essential for understanding the implication of reworking of existing forms, structures and spatial organisations toward the development of low-emission energy landscapes. This exploration encompasses both the physical reality of these landscapes and the individual perception of them. From a cultural and environmental standpoint, fossil fuels have faced critical scrutiny not only for their role in transforming production, trade, consumption and warfare on a global scale, but also for their significant influence on the politics of economy, within the framework of colonialisation and globalisation. Historically, renewables have provided alternatives; however, they have also mirrored colonial, destructive and extractive practices. For instance, hydroelectric dams have disfigured rivers and infringed upon indigenous territories, wind parks have impacted food habitats and migratory routes and solar farms have depended on critical minerals, that often come with significant environmental and social costs. Consequently, future energy landscapes must be designed to avoid perpetuating patterns of exploitation and neo-colonialism.
I Tracing the modern energy landscapes of Switzerland demands a comprehensive examination of their historical evolution, cultural meaning and structural innovation, all of which inform the supply logic and growth ideology within the energy sector. However, a critical analysis of fossil fuels in this context does not yield significant insights. While water resources were part of the Allmende (German for commons), this shifted with the advent of the trade liberalisation in 1798 and the consequent granting of usage by the cantons and the state treasury. The industrialisation of Switzerland was predominantly propelled by hydropower, beginning with the establishment of the Baumwollen-Spinnerey-Gesellschaft in 1801, which marked the inception of the first joint-stock company and machine spinning mill in St Gallen. This initiation set the stage for a series of pioneering industrial and economic ventures emerging primarily from the cotton industry, which utilised water wheels and subsequently turbines. In contrast, coal became a driving force for rapid railway construction in the latter half of the nineteenth century, primarily funded by private enterprises and, to a lesser extent, the textile, printing and brewing industries. The Swiss energy system underwent a transformative shift once the challenges associated with long-distance power transmission were addressed. This pivotal development was exemplified by the participation of Swiss engineering – alongside the Germans – at the Internationale Elektrizitätsausstellung in Frankfurt in 1891, which showcased advancements in electrical engineering and technology (fig.1).
From the turn of the twentieth century, international observers swiftly recognised Switzerland as the nucleus of electricity generation in Europe (fig.2). Following an initial surge in power plant construction around 1886, Europe’s first large-scale hydroelectric facility was built in 1898 on the rapids of the Rhine in Rheinsfelden (fig.3). This plant, which was subsequently expanded, served as an overland power station, supplying electricity to various sectors, including industry, commerce, agriculture and transportation. Hydropower, colloquially referred to as ‘white coal,’ began its ascendancy during the first decade of the twentieth century, generating and harnessing operating energy from the rivers in the Alpine foothills, such as the Aare, Reuss and Limmat in the three-stream canton of Aargau. This trend later extended to the exploitation of the ‘natural potential’ of the Alps, utilising reservoirs to convert potential and kinetic energy. Multiple factors contributed to this phenomenon, including socio-technical peculiarities, the poverty of coal, a well-established capital market, access to engineering expertise and a robust entrepreneurial spirit, all of which served as explanatory patterns for Switzerland’s high share of hydropower in electricity generation in international comparison.
The absence of a unified national plan, compounded by the resistance of individual cantons, resulted in the emergence of a diverse array of power plants within Switzerland, taking advantage of the seemingly inexhaustible supply of water resources. The history of the electrification of Switzerland was largely accomplished prior to 1914, illustrating the compatibility of societal and technological advancements. According to historian of technology David Gugerli, this was enabled by a specific mode of discourse that unified perceptions and emphasise the relevance of collective action. In Redeströme, Gugerli argued that key developments such as the electrification of the Schweizerische Bundesbahnen (SBB), the Swiss Federal Railways from 1913 onward, the transition to electric power in households as a substitute for traditional fuels like wood, coal and gas during the First World War, and the subsequent export of electricity, were pivotal in shaping the landscape of electrification. Historically, electrification constituted both a spatial and temporal phenomenon, as it occurred unevenly, and not every valley was reached immediately. Yet, prior to the onset of the Second Industrial Revolution, various forms of power plants, supra-regional production companies and municipal distribution companies were already well established, indicating an advanced level of organisational development within the Swiss energy sector.
Economic geography encompasses various elements, including trade, investment and regulation. A crucial factor in the establishment of what was termed an ‘electrical operation’ – a concept that predates the adoption of the term ‘electrification’ from English – was the early development of an independent electricity industry in Switzerland. During the early twentieth century, the city of Baden in canton Aargau emerged as a main hub for the private sector, housing two major companies: Brown Boveri & Cie (BBC, which later became ABB) and Motor-Columbus AG. These companies were drawn to the region by favourable conditions, cheap land and opportunities for infrastructural cooperation, and they became among the leading producers and suppliers of electricity in the nation. In contrast, Zurich was the principal location for Maschinen-Fabrik Oerlikon (MFO) and Escher Wyss & Cie, both of which specialised in the manufacture of electrical machines, generators, transformers and turbines. These corporations competed on an international scale against established companies such as German AEG and Siemens.
In Switzerland, water was regarded as a ‘national treasure’ (Hans Caspar Escher), and hydropower was viewed as a significant ‘economic asset’. The generation of electricity, which served as both a consumer good and capital goods, received legislative protection from foreign industry through the 1916 Gesetz über die Nutzbarmachung von Wasserkräften (Law on the Utilisation of Hydropower). This clarified water rights and consequently safeguarded industry sectors, such as those in Baden, due to their economic contributions. Although the law did not establish a uniform administrative framework due to its emphasis on preserving cantonal sovereignty, it did ensure that control over important national enterprises remained in the hands of Swiss citizens. As a result, hydropower – considered both as an energy source and a commercial venture – contributed to the broader strategy of ‘Festung Schweiz’ (Fortress Switzerland), thereby fostering international dependencies.
The electrification of Switzerland, characterised by its processual, product and project dimensions, resulted in a massive transformation of landscapes both on a national scale and in global context. As the economic importance of hydropower increased, there were considerable alterations through natural waterways, including the straightening of river courses and the construction of ports, which were then complemented by the establishment of power stations and factories along the streams. Additionally, the development of barrages on larger rivers enhanced navigability, while the construction of the first arch and gravity dams in the Alps, inspired by American models and initiated by the Swiss Federal Railways (SBB), further contributed to this transformation. Moreover, transformer stations and electricity pylons became integral components of the infrastructure, evolving into commonplace fixtures of daily life. Collectively, these developments gave rise to modern energy landscapes that influenced patterns of work and lifestyle, thus establishing a more rational and systematic foundation for the nation’s wealth.
The cities and cantons recognised the significance of electricity and took the initiative to develop their own power plants and grids, often leading the way. Notable examples include the Elektrizitätswerke Zürich (EWZ), which established the first power plant at Letten in 1877, followed by the expansion with the Wettingen power plant in 1932 along the Limmat river, or the Albigna dam in Bregaglia, completed in 1959 (fig.4). Some of the public power stations evolved into large corporations, surpassing their private counterparts. In terms of price and market coordination, the private consortium comprising ABB and Motor-Columbus AG maintained a competitive edge, while the federal government acted as an entrepreneur within the sector. The early private plants laid the groundwork for important companies, such as Centralschweizerische Kraftwerke in Lucerne and Aare-Tessin für Elektrizität (ATEL). After initially operating river power plants, ATEL embarked on the construction of its first hydroelectric dam near Lucendro in Ticino in 1942 (fig.5).
Towards the conclusion of the Second World War, the Zürcher Verein für Wirtschaftsstudien (Zurich Association for Economic Studies) published a comprehensive study on Elektrizität, authored by Gerhard Baehler (figs.6–8). Baehler, a former hydro-engineer and anarchist, who possessed a keen interest in financing companies or holdings, as well as in production and distribution entities, trusts and monopolies across various industries, including electricity and cement, drew upon his background having been involved in dam construction projects. In his detailed analysis, which he supported by both description and illustrations, Baehler meticulously outlined the financial entanglements among the stakeholders engaged in the utilisation and expansion of hydropower. The study highlighted the rapid ascent of ABB and Motor-Columbus AG into international enterprises. This escalation can be attributed not only to the German and British nationality of the founders and the global distribution of their branches and holdings, but also to the diverse international backgrounds of their board members, which included individuals from Germany, England, France and Italy. Furthermore, the Baden consortium cultivated powerful connections abroad, which were further strengthened during periods of market consolidation and the reduction of competition.
Given the enduring significance of hydropower, apparently there was a need to integrate the history of science and technology with sociopolitical studies and critical economic theory to construct a comprehensive understanding of energy landscapes. Baehler clearly discerned the distinction between public and private enterprises within the electricity sector, noting that only in the former do profits contribute to public revenues. Through this work, he underscored that, despite the connectivity of towns and villages to the electrical grid, the exploitation of hydropower remained predominantly the privilege of a select few families who controlled and benefitted from the management of these companies. Historically, important partners in Switzerland’s electricity industry have included large banking institutions. In the context of a tumultuous period marked by a re-evaluation of state policy, Baehler advocated for the nationalisation of the electricity sector, emphasising that its primary and most critical function is the generation of power for private consumption.
II The years following the Second World War marked a significant transition in energy landscapes. Identified as the ‘1950s Syndrome’ by Swiss climate historian Christian Pfister, the period encapsulates a broader socio-cultural transformation driven by cheap fossil fuels and facilitated by the externalisation of costs. In the energy humanities, this epochal threshold is contextualised within the overarching narrative of petro-modernity – as I argue – is intricately connected to cement-modernity. In this framework, the impacts of operational energy and embodied energy on land and people must be considered. The utilisation of oil for heating is widely acknowledged as problematic; however, the production of cement poses a similar pressing concern due to its detrimental climate impact. This includes the entire life cycle of cement – from provision, to transport, storage, sale, usage and eventually disposal – rendering it the most prevalent, and yet energy-intensive building material used in construction. Moreover, the discourse surrounding energy landscapes extends beyond the historical proliferation of technology, which is often presented through a positivist lens focused on patents and innovation. It also incorporates aesthetic, ethical, economic, political and ecological, socio-material dimensions. As such, a comprehensive academic analysis of energy landscapes necessitates an interdisciplinary approach, encompassing not only engineering or architectural and urban history but also a broader understanding of the societal implications and contexts in which these energy systems operate.
The architectural movement known as Neues Bauen was actively promoted by institutional entities and private stakeholders, and significantly bolstered by the burgeoning Swiss cement industry. One of the dominant firms, Holderbank, based in the small town of the same name in canton Aargau, under president Ernst Schmidheiny experienced substantial expansion in the decade after the Second World War. The early establishment of a national cartel within the Swiss cement industry, in conjunction with collaboration between building material and financial industries, enabled the provision of a cheap material that was more of a commodity than a resource. This development was instrumental in facilitating construction activities during the period referred to within the Anthropocene discourse as the ‘Great Acceleration’, characterised by Fordist-Taylorist mass production (also of precast concrete parts), the rise of a consumer society and increased motorisation and mobility. Conversely, the cement industry, which had undergone national consolidation and international expansion since the 1930s by separating manufacturing and finance companies, benefitted from the ongoing processes of urbanisation and globalisation, which not only allowed it to scale its operations, but to enhance its value chains, thereby solidifying a position within the global marketplace.
The economic boom of this era, which promised widespread prosperity, catalysed a significant building boom that extended beyond architecture and urban planning to encompass transport and energy infrastructure and which manifested through monumental large-scale structures. The use of concrete to construct national roads in the canton of Argovia (a subsidiary of Holderbank was the Betonstrassen AG) transformed landscape. Similarly, dam projects in the 1950s and 1960s were emblematic of this drive to modernise. Contemporary studies focused on the behaviour of dams when subjected to cold temperature and external force, a consideration that appears to anthropomorphise infrastructure but is more accurately described as an endeavour to exert control over natural elements. A 1967 publication from the Swiss National Committee on Large Dams identified over 100 reservoirs dedicated to hydroelectric energy generation (21 constructed prior to the Second World War and 85 afterwards). This effectively addressed the fundamental challenge of managing snowfall in winter while accommodating the constant energy demand throughout the year, thereby ensuring energy independence.
La Grande Dixence dam, constructed between 1951 and 1961, stands as a quintessential example of the scientific and technical belief in progress, as well as a renewed sense of gigantism in the transformation of energy landscapes (figs.9–10). Its construction was documented on film by Jean-Luc Godard – his debut work – through simple yet remarkably intimate images that showcased machinery and the pouring of concrete. Designed to overcome the challenges posed by the mountain, the project exemplified Swiss engineering. Upon its completion, La Grande Dixence was poised to be the largest gravity dam in the world, standing at 284m tall and employing an unprecedented volume of six million cubic metres of concrete to capture the meltwater from 35 glaciers. The scale of this undertaking necessitated a substantial demand for concrete and the mobilisation of over 3,000 workers on the construction site. Architecture historian Sarah Nichols conducted a detailed study of this monumental project, emphasising the intricate choreography required on the construction site to coordinate the delivery of cement within the broader framework of material flow, highlighting the project’s complexity and the logistical challenges involved.
Yet, the capital-intensive cement regime was also very much geared towards creating demand. As a result of the prolonged economic boom from the 1950s to 1973, which was driven by the notion of limitless supply, large-scale housing estates were constructed across Switzerland in accordance with the prevailing theories of modernity, decentralisation, greening and industrialisation of construction. This period also saw the realisation of a new type of Terrassenhäuser (terraced houses, in the literal sense) envisioned on a grand scale for the southern slopes of the Jura mountains (figs.11–13). Similar to this urban development, large-scale dam construction projects, initiated to provide electricity, fostered the emergence of a new industrial market for materials, processes and technologies. This endeavour resulted in a man-made terrestrial morphology that was achievable only through the installation of state-of-the-art kilns in the cement plants, which operated continuously, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. The focus of these operations was not necessarily on the quality of the cement, sand and aggregates, but rather on the regular and timely production and availability to meet the demands of these ambitious construction projects.
The second major project that significantly shaped the energy landscapes of postwar modernity in Switzerland, characterised by the interplay between the state, the business world and the machinery and cement industries, was the construction of nuclear power plants, particularly in the canton of Argovia, during the period known as the ‘atomic fever’, which enveloped Swiss engineering science. Beginning in 1939, the physicist Paul Scherrer, in collaboration with BBC and the MFO, initiated the development of Europe’s first particle accelerators at the ETHZ, marking the onset of the atomic age in Switzerland. Subsequently, Scherrer engaged in fundamental research funded by the federal government, which laid the groundwork for the establishment of Reaktor AG. This initiative eventually evolved into the Swiss Federal Institute for Reactor Research in 1960, serving as an academic annexe. Moreover, there were preliminary plans to construct a reactor directly beneath the ETHZ for the purpose of heating the university, as well as a proposal for a second nuclear power plant to be situated inside the Uetliberg, intended to provide energy for the entire city of Zurich.
In the wake of a report issued in 1963 that characterised nuclear energy as an immature sector, prominent entities within the Swiss electricity industry, including Motor-Columbus AG, promptly redirected their focus towards reactor projects. The aspiration for a national reactor initiative ultimately dissipated in 1967 when the industry withdrew its support. Nonetheless, despite concurrent plans for new Rhine power plants in Stein-Säckingen and Koblenz-Kadelburg, which were projected to address future energy demands, the Nordost-Schweizerische Kraftwerke (NOK) proceeded with the decision to construct Switzerland’s first commercial nuclear power plant. Following the initial announcement of these plans in 1964, the Beznau reactor was commissioned in 1969, utilising an American light water reactor imported and constructed by an American company as the general contractor (fig.14). This was succeeded by the commissioning of further reactors: Mühlenberg in 1972, Gösgen in 1979 and Leibstadt in 1984. At that time, the Schweizer Bauzeitung, referencing Euratom, asserted the belief that ‘the risk-free disposal of nuclear waste is completely mastered’.
In addition to the expansion of hydroelectric power and the emergence of nuclear energy, the history of Swiss architecture must also account for the influence of petroleum culture, as examined in the field of energy humanities. Between 1950 and 1970, oil consumption in Switzerland increased twelvefold, primarily covered by imports from the Gulf region. The postwar energy mix of Switzerland was further bolstered by its integration into the international network of transalpine pipelines, facilitated through Alpine tunnels. In the early 1960s, following a series of test drillings by the newly founded (1959) Swisspetrol AG under chairman Max Schmidheiny, the Filmwochenschau – then a prominent medium for political information screened weekly in Swiss cinemas (excluding the French speaking cantons) – reported with pride that Swiss engineers were engaged in oil drilling activities during a prospecting venture in Zumikon, canton of Zurich, despite the ultimate failure of this initiative. Subsequently, two refineries were established in western Switzerland with international participation. The first, located in Collembey-Muraz, Valais, was constructed in 1963, with collaboration from the Italian company Eni, linked to the Genoa pipeline. The second refinery, completed in 1964 in Cressier, Neuchâtel, saw the British-Dutch Shell company take a majority stake, supported by Gulf Oil, and linked to the Marseille pipeline, thereby supplying the burgeoning Swiss market with a variety of petroleum products. At that time, thermal power plants powered by oil were deemed a viable option, as exemplified by proposed plans for such facilities in Rüthi, St Gallen, by NOK. However, these plans encountered significant resistance from the local population.
III Energy landscapes are characterised and defined by their inherent environmental consequences, which significantly affect both human and non-human habitats (fig.15). As a result, these landscapes have the potential to become focal points for political formation and contestation. The environmental revolution that commenced in the 1970s coincided with the emergence of an eco-movement in Switzerland, which gained notable traction through various initiatives, such as the opposition to the Zurich expressway or ‘Y’ project in 1971, which was finally shelved in 2024, and the protests against the nuclear reactor in Kaiseraugst in 1975. The publication of the report The Limits to Growth in 1972, commissioned by the St Gallen-based Club of Rome, underscored the finite nature of global resources and provided projections extending to the year 2100. This report resonated strongly within Swiss architecture and engineering circles and catalysed a critique of large-scale technological enterprises. Consequently, a burgeoning scepticism, and at times hostility, towards extensive industrial modes of production emerged, irrespective of whether these systems were rooted in capitalism or socialism. During this period a younger generation began advocating for alternative energy sources, such as solar, wind, biogas and geothermal energy. However, despite enthusiasm and efforts, none of these have achieved substantial uptake or implementation since that time.
Ecocriticism, defined as the analysis of the dialectic between alienation from nature and self-alienation, emerged in the 1970s as a critique of the general exploitation of natural resources and a specific examination of construction’s impact on the environment. This movement transcended societal boundaries, making its ways into universities and permeating Swiss literature, which reflected the zeitgeist of the era. Two notable ecocritical novels, Spätholz (1976) by Walther Kauer and Der Mensch erscheint im Holozän (1979) by Max Frisch (translated as Man and the Holocene, with episodic publications in the New Yorker in 1981), are both set in the region of Ticino. These works can be read as proto-Anthropocene narratives and explorations of energy landscapes, situated within the tension between pastoral imaginaries and apocalyptic scenarios. Both authors grappled not only with the implications of hydroelectric dams but also with the broader relationship to the mountainous terrain at large, particularly the phenomenon of the rockslide. This theme is deeply rooted in Swiss geological discourse, which classics such as Albert Heim emphasising the inherent risk and threats posed by the Alps, thus positioning nature as an overpowering actor in these narratives.
In Spätholz, Kauer narrates a complex tale that juxtaposes tradition and innovation, agriculture and urbanisation, while providing a critical examination of civilisation and technology, through the character of Rocco Canonica, a resolute mountain farmer deeply connected to his region. The central plot – and indeed the narrative tension – revolves around Rocco’s perception that his life’s work is under threat, which compels him to defend cultivation practices that are attuned to local weather events, as well as the indigenous flora and fauna. As the story unfolds, Rocco experiences a mounting sense of urgency as he contemplates an impending act of violence against his newly affluent Swiss German neighbour, who has recently relocated from the city. Leading up to this climax, Kauer skilfully alternates between flashbacks and the confrontation, illustrating Rocco’s recollections of lessons imparted by his father. These memories encompass practical skills such as tapping a spring, laying a water pipe for the purpose of operating a water wheel and quarrying stone to construct terraces – skills emblematic of a sustainable and localised relationship with the land.
In Der Mensch erscheint im Holozän, Frisch presents a novella that explores human-nature relationships in the aftermath of a heavy rainfall event – an instance of extreme weather. As with his earlier works, Frisch examines how the rationality of twentieth-century science and technology shapes contemporary perceptions of humanity. The protagonist, Herr Geiser, a retired engineer, embodies this theme, as he finds himself cut off from the outside world due to a landslide in a mountain village in Ticino. Throughout the narrative, Geiser grapples with age-related memory loss, which he tries to mitigate through various strategies but ultimately succumbs to a stroke. While he waits for normality to return, he engages in the practices of creating lists and compiling encyclopaedic knowledge related to geological and biological facts, which Frisch intricately weaves into the narrative. This approach not only serves to enrich the text but also highlights Geiser’s struggle to assert control over his understanding of an increasingly chaotic natural world.
The literary exploration of the landscape transformation, and its overwriting, also due to energy production and use, is situated in opposite registers within the two narratives. In the case of Rocco’s life story – characterised by subsistence farming, craftsmanship and stewardship – an overarching theme of impoverishment, isolation and degradation emerges, particularly in the wake of technological advancement and modernisation that shaped the community. However, a pivotal scene that signifies a belligerent and symbolic act of retaliation against the profit-driven destruction of a nature-centred way of life, manifested through the proliferation of second homes for Swiss Germans, ultimately does not transpire. Rather, Rocco, acutely conscious of the ever-present risk of a rockslide, prioritises his obligations by ascending to the spring to repair the pipes before descending to alert the village community of the impending danger. This preventive action underscores a critical commentary on the discontinuation of the Allmende; which in this context refers to the communal stewardship of a protective forest essential for risk management in the Alps – a loss that resonates deeply and is profoundly mourned.
In the case of Herr Geiser, the civilisational context is revealed primarily due to the prolonged disconnection of his house from the electricity grid, a consequence of the rockslide. This disconnection renders essential modern conveniences – such as the electric oven, boiler, refrigerator and television – nonfunctional. Faced with these challenges, Geiser resorts to chopping wood to fuel the fireplace and ends up roasting his cat rather than consuming the minestrone soup prepared by his neighbours. As retaining walls give way and water run-off threatens the stability of Geiser’s home, the narrative transcends a mere meditation on the accomplishments of twentieth-century civilisation and technology to become a profound and desperate effort to situate individual existence within the deep history of the Earth’s history. This endeavour ultimately underscores the inadequacies of geomorphological and climatological knowledge when confronted with personal vulnerability. The Alpine backdrop, once again, serves as a poignant reminder, inviting reflection on the virtues of simplicity in life and the detrimental effects wrought by modernisation.
Notably, in both novels, the hydroelectric dam appears as a significant literary figure, whether as central or supporting element. In Kauer’s work, the dam functions as an antagonist despite being an emblem of engineering achievement. Rocco’s adolescent sons find employment on a construction site high in the mountains, where they earn their first wages; however, this experience leads to their growing estrangement from their roots, ultimately resulting in their migration to the city in pursuit of careers in the service industry rather than taking over the family farm. Conversely, in Frisch’s work, the dam is portrayed more as a ghostly presence. The narrator reflects on the unique circumstance of the valley, noting that in contrast to other parts of Ticino, no dam is planned here, allowing the village to thrive in the absence of industrial development. Both narratives culminate in an unsettling realisation regarding construction: Spätholz concludes with a jarring leap into the present, revealing that a new dam had been constructed, flooding the valley and leading to the creation of an ersatz village for the few residents who remain. In Der Mensch erscheint im Holozän, construction activities gradually resume as the local community appears to recover from disaster.
IV In light of the ongoing climate breakdown, as disaster has become perpetual, it is imperative that we – akin to Walter Benjamin’s meditation on Paul Klee’s Angelus Novus – redirect our attention backwards towards ruins while moving forward. Ultimately, the palimpsest of contemporary energy landscapes in Switzerland becomes evident in the realisation that each energy system introduced in the twentieth century has manifested itself through architecture, urbanism and infrastructure, driven by market forces. In the light of the objectives surrounding energy transition, it is advantageous to conceptualise energy as a process and project – rather than a product – that can be redesigned, if not entirely undone. From a historical (cultural as much as environmental) perspective, each energy regime – whether derived from hydropower, but also fossil, nuclear, solar or wind energy – possesses distinct characteristics shaped by the granting of concessions (thereby abolishing common property), the organisation of industrial processes and operations, and the regulatory frameworks imposed by law, among other factors. Furthermore, energy landscapes are situated, influenced by variables such as land, capital, labour and knowledge, which have become decisive in their development. The ecological and social costs associated with energy production and consumption, historically externalised, would need to be internalised.
Electrification lies at the core of contemporary transformations, significantly influencing the energy geographies and generating new opportunities for economic activities. Since the 1990s, with the emergence of the digital age and the establishment of an information economy, energy humanities scholar Jeff Diamanti describes this phenomenon as an ‘energy deepening’ encompassing both electricity production and use, as well as a broader conceptualisation of architecture in in the context of a globally networked, energy-intensive consumer society. In this regard, amid a societal framework still largely reliant on fossil fuels, and considering the intricate entanglement of energy, media, infrastructure, and capital, Diamanti introduces the category of ‘energyscapes’ for analysis. This represents a redefinition and reshaping of traditional notions such as ‘mediascapes’ and also ‘landscapes.’ In the context of Switzerland, historian Monika Dommann has demonstrated that energy-intensive nodes of digitisation, such as data centres – which have historically been associated with universities, state-owned telecommunications entities or networks paralleling the SBB – are also on the rise. Furthermore, the advent of blockchain technology and the mining and trading of cryptocurrencies is increasingly underpinned and thus greened by hydropower.
The political economy and ecology of renewable energy and associated terraforming warrants a critical examination. As the transition to sustainable energy systems becomes imperative, the Swiss energy landscapes, characterised by their ‘infrastructural fix’, are increasingly subject to renewed state and industry interests. ‘Energieperspektiven 2050+’, published by the Swiss Federal Office of Energy at the end of 2020, presents a trajectory aligned with the long-term climate objective of achieving net zero greenhouse gas emissions, albeit only by 2050 and beyond. According to national policy, the secure access and supply of energy is projected to be ensured through the implementation of renewable sources, which are intended to replace nuclear power from the mid-2030s. The majority of this transition is expected to be facilitated by an expansion of solar power, which represented 4.2 percent of the energy mix in 2019, and wind power, which accounted for 0.2 percent in the same year. In this context, energy infrastructures including investments in large-scale solar power plants, photovoltaic cells on roofs and façades, and wind farms located not only in the Alps but also across Europe, constitute a ‘spatial fix’ that primarily serves the accumulation of capital – a condition that is reflective of Switzerland’s role within a framework of globalised capitalism. In view of the growing energy demand and despite the significant contribution of hydropower to the Swiss energy mix, the decision taken in 2011 to phase out nuclear energy is being questioned by parts of the political sector. The decision in favour of a nuclear waste repository plays into the hands of this position.
The need for new hydropower infrastructure, coupled with the repair and maintenance of existing facilities, is crucial to facilitating the energy transition, despite local protests and resistance, which must be taken seriously. Historically a generational issue, this challenge has now become a race against time. While discussions often focus on aesthetic and technological dimensions, scholars in the energy humanities highlight aspects of justice, while the design of energy systems can manifest in various forms and scales, either perpetuating the existing regime or fostering the creation of progressive alternatives. Currently, in addition to the implementation of smart local mini-grids, energy storage has emerged as a critical issue. One proposed solution involves the development of reservoirs and pumped storage power plants managed by communal shareholders, exemplified by EWZ’s Lake Muttsee built in 2015, which stands as the largest reservoir in Switzerland. The discourse surrounding energy transition will necessarily address economic, legal and ecological considerations, including the limitations on the utilisation of the storage capacity in the Alps and the risks associated with geological events such as of rockslides, earthquakes, and climatic ones posed by extreme weather. Furthermore, there is growing concern regarding water as a scarce resource, even within Switzerland. If it is assumed that hydroelectric dams may continue to be replenished by meltwater until 2040, a significant conflict has already been identified regarding the prioritisation of water use – whether for electricity generation or for agricultural irrigation.
A transdisciplinary and trans-scalar perspective on energy futures, encompassing architectural and urban form as integral parts of the energy system, ultimately must recognise biodiversity as an interconnected issue, as was done with the ‘Biodiversitätsinitiative’ in 2024. For the energy transition to become successful, it will be essential to address not only the often overlooked issues related to the extraction of critical minerals for photovoltaic cells and batteries and the production and use of concrete and steel for the foundations and structures for wind turbines, but also futures for landscape and people affected. At the same time, the redesign of energy landscapes in Switzerland to be effective will need to be accompanied by a material transition, that considers the fossil fuels imported for cement production, notably 110,000 tonnes of lignite in 2019, which are utilised alongside of so-called ‘alternative’ or ersatz fuels, such as used tyres and all kinds of waste. At the building scale, contemporary political debate extends beyond the imperative to replace oil-fired heating systems. Numerous researchers and initiatives have begun to recognise that a primary challenge lies in minimising the use of concrete in construction. This concern is particularly pressing given that the cement produced today from the existing limestone quarries – following recent expansions that have been granted – will need to be allocated for retrofitting what is referred to as ‘Bauwerk Schweiz’ (all the built structure of Switzerland). Addressing these material histories is critical for achieving a truly sustainable energy transition.
The palimpsest that forms the Swiss energy landscape – past, present and future – is characterised by entrenched political and economic interests that have recently come under scrutiny from organisations such as the 2000-Watt Society to Energieperspektiven 2050+, and not without criticism. A new form of environmentalism is emerging in Swiss architectural and urban debate, presenting a critical agenda that raises pertinent questions. What would it take to intertwine the agenda of energy transition with the establishment of a new take on the concept of Baukultur as formulated with the National Research Program NRP 81 of the Swiss National Science Foundation SNSF? Will the adoption of bioregional strategies and renewable and regenerative materials – such as timber frame, rammed earth and straw bale – alongside circular strategies such as reduce, reuse and recycling, not only facilitate the development of new relationships with the soil, forests, mountains and rivers, but also foster stronger community relations? What knowledge might be unearthed and lifted that has been buried or flooded in the past, displaced by modern architecture, modern urbanism and modern engineering practices fostering demolition based on the principle of obsolescence? Furthermore, what does it mean to preserve, repair and maintain certain energy landscapes, including those associated with hydropower, as part of the commons in an era marked by climate and biodiversity emergencies? These enquiries are essential for understanding energy futures in Switzerland and beyond.
Kim Förster is Senior Lecturer in Architectural Studies at the University of Manchester and member of the Manchester Architecture Research Group (MARG). Previously (2016–18), he worked as Associate Director of Research at the Canadian Centre for Architecture, Montreal. His research and teaching focuses on knowledge and cultural production, as well as institutional and environmental history, with particular attention to issues of building transition in terms of the social metabolism, practices and policies of energy and material flows, and ways that they are debated and mediated. He is author of Building Institution (2024) and Undisciplined Knowing. Writing Architectural History through the Environment (2023), and editor of the series ‘Environmental Histories of Architecture’ (2022). His current research project investigates a global history of cement as a modern industrial building material and cheap commodity.
