Eastney Pool: A missed opportunity and a warning for Portsmouth’s architectural future.

Sometimes, what seems like a small local demolition tells a much larger story. The loss of Eastney Swimming Pool , a 1904 structure with deep community, historical and educational meaning, is one such case.

When I learned that the pool was being torn down, despite its heritage significance and the passionate efforts of campaigners, students and architects to imagine new life for it, I felt compelled to respond. The situation raises bigger questions about how we treat the built environment in the age of climate crisis, how local democracy functions in decisions about public space and whether our heritage protections are fit for purpose.

I wrote the following letter to the editor of The News to highlight what I see as a troubling pattern: the quiet erasure of buildings that may not be “nationally exceptional” but are locally essential  — carriers of memory, sustainability lessons and creative potential.

Below is the letter as submitted. I share it here not only as commentary on one decision, but as an invitation for a wider conversation: how can Portsmouth, and cities like it, balance renewal with remembrance?

Subject: Demolition of Eastney Pool, a missed opportunity and a warning for Portsmouth’s architectural future

Dear Editor,

I am writing with a heavy heart and deep frustration in reaction to the demolition of Eastney Swimming Pool, a decision that signals yet another loss from Portsmouth’s roster of threatened buildings. Its removal, sanctioned by Historic England’s refusal to grant it listed status and by the city council’s determination to replace it, deserves public scrutiny—not least because it points to a deeper crisis in how we treat the built environment, heritage, and local democracy.

The significance we lose

Eastney Pool was more than a defunct leisure building. Constructed in 1904 as part of Eastney Barracks, it bore witness to generations of community life and historical memory.(1) It is locally famous as the pool in which the “Cockleshell Heroes” trained before their daring WWII raid. (2) It also has special resonance for sporting history—indeed, it is claimed to be one of the places where underwater hockey (octopush) had its early matches.4 Over its lifetime, many local people and students have used it as a subject for architectural, structural, or social study.

When a building of that layered meaning is demolished, we do not merely lose “bricks and mortar”—we erase a site of memory, an object of inquiry, and a potential for creative reuse.

Yet, despite repeated applications, Historic England declined to list the pool, concluding that it did not possess the “special architectural or historic interest” at a national level to merit protection.5 Without that statutory protection as a listed building, the council had a freer hand to remove it.6

It is precisely such sites—those with local, social, and educational resonance, though not always grand or “exceptional”—that tend to fall through the cracks of national heritage protection.

A comparative perspective: reuse vs replacement

Let us compare two possible paths:

• Reuse / adaptive repurposing Campaigners and architectural students have proposed a wide variety of reuse ideas: a community cultural centre, creative studios, youth facilities, a skatepark (including accessible designs for wheelchair users), exhibition spaces, or hybrid uses that preserve elements of the original shell while adapting it to 21st-century needs. These proposals treat the building not as obsolete but as a substrate for new life. Advantages include:

  • lower embodied-carbon cost compared to wholesale demolition and rebuild

  • retention of “memory value” and continuity of place

  • a didactic example for students of sustainable retrofit and design ingenuity

  • potential for phased investment rather than one massive upfront cost

• Demolition + a “modern” replacement The council’s stated position is that the building is structurally compromised, unsafe, leaking, inaccessible, and economically unviable to repair.7 The proposed alternative is a new water-sports centre, potentially including café, creative studios, kitesurfing, paddleboarding, and a restaurant, aligned with the ambitions of the city’s Seafront Masterplan.8 A new leisure facility is also under construction in Bransbury Park, with pool, gym, and GP surgery, slated for completion in 2027.9 The council argues that refurbishing Eastney would cost upwards of £8 million, and still leave the building with limitations in accessibility, energy performance, footprint, and ongoing maintenance burden.10They also contend that the footprint would not allow for a learner pool or additional modern facilities.11

But that argument rests on several assumptions: that the cost estimates are realistic and comprehensive; that retrofit cannot be phased; that heritage and carbon savings are incidental; and that new plastic-intensive construction is inherently more efficient in the long run.

From a climate perspective, demolishing a century-old structure and replacing it with a new “box” — potentially full of synthetic materials, high embodied carbon, and curiosity-free design — strikes me as the less forward-looking choice. What message does that send to future architects, to students who have spent time imagining alternative uses, and to the public about the value of continuity and adaptation?

Are these buildings “important enough” to be reused rather than replaced? I argue that they are, at least until proven otherwise — especially when local people, students, and campaigners are willing to invest intellectual and emotional effort in imagining that reuse.

The question of public agency, local ambition, and credibility

We must ask: whose voice counts in shaping our physical environment?

• Local government / planning authority: The city council has statutory and moral responsibility to steward public assets and respond to community aspirations. But its published policies—including the Portsmouth Local Plan and its Sustainability Appraisal—offer limited evidence of a genuine ambition to preserve and repurpose threatened buildings. The Portsmouth Local Plan (to 2040) includes policies on design, greening, and the climate emergency.12 Its accompanying Sustainability Appraisal by AECOM discusses climate, heritage, and resilience.13But in practice, the Eastney pool case reveals that heritage arguments – especially of local and educational significance – were insufficient to override safety and financial concerns. In effect, public right to help shape the city gets overridden by expert judgments (or at least cost-benefit justification) in the council’s hands. That risks eroding civic trust.

• Historic England: The case also highlights the limitations of national listing as a gatekeeper to protection. If a building is deemed not nationally “special,” it may be removed even if it has rich local meaning and demonstrable reuse potential. Historic England must consider broadening its criteria in times of climate urgency—to protect buildings not only for their aesthetic or architectural rarity but for their carbon and social value.

• The public, students, and campaigners: If campaigners and students are relegated to the role of spectators rather than participants, we risk alienation. The emotional burden—especially for young people who have invested hope, energy, and design proposals—is very real in a post-Covid, climate-anxious era.

What kind of aspiration are we offering to future architects and planners if their interventions, empathy, and ingenuity can be negated by an opaque “throw-it-away-and-start-over” default?

Invitation for public debate

I propose that the media, public, and professional community treat Eastney’s demolition not as a fait accompli but as a critical moment for reflection:

1. Is national “special interest” the right threshold for protection in times of climate crisis? Should Historic England revise its policy to account for embodied carbon, local meaning, and reuse potential—not just architectural exceptionalism?

2. How can local planning authorities be held accountable when a publicly-owned building is demolished without genuine exploration of reuse alternatives?

3. What criteria should decide whether a threatened building deserves to live on (in new form) rather than die? How do we balance structure condition, cost, adaptation potential, community value, carbon savings, and future flexibility?

4. How do we restore public and student confidence that architectural imagination, local activism, and heritage scholarship genuinely matter to city-making — not just as decorative afterthoughts?

I invite your newspaper to open a forum or series of letters on this question. Let us move beyond simplistic dichotomies of “old vs new” and instead ask: how do we build a city that respects memory, enables innovation, cares for carbon, and empowers public voice?

In closing, the demolition of Eastney Swimming Pool is not just a loss of brickwork — but a symptom of a deeper malaise in the politics of place, ambition, and responsibility. We must not let it pass silently.

Thank you for considering this letter. I would welcome the chance to contribute further or comment upon responses.

Yours sincerely, Deniz BeckRIBA, CA, Adaptive Reuse Architect, Creative Producer 

Founding Director of SCT,