Longevity does not depend solely on genes. As research and urban experiments show, lifestyle and the space in which we function can significantly affect the quality and length of life. Agnieszka Labus talks about preventive urbanism, designing in the rhythm of life and building neighborhoods that support mental, physical and social health.
Magdalena Milert: Recently, at the Evercity exhibition in Lodz, you compared the city to a living organism. What elements of this "urban body" do you think are most important for supporting a good, long life in the city?
Agnieszka Labus: For me, this approach became particularly clear while working on the Evercity exhibition in Lodz, although this comparison is not really new - after all, one often speaks of the "green lungs of the city" or the "urban bloodstream," for example. While working on the exhibition, however, I realized that most of the elements of the urban structure can actually be related to the human organism - and that this is not just a metaphor, but a way of thinking about the relationships that make up a good, healthy city.
For me, of course, greenery is the lungs - they enable us to breathe, have a positive impact on mental and physical health, and are essential from the perspective of both the individual and the urban fabric as a whole. The nervous system, in turn, is social relations - neighborhoods, ties, interactions. This cannot be designed directly, but conditions can be created that foster proximity and contact. It's an invisible architecture that makes a huge difference to quality of life.
Longevity begins here, where we live - Illustration in the spirit of the idea of longevity architecture. In the center, the slogan "How many years longer and better will we live?", which indicates the relationship between the design of space and the quality and length of life of residents.
© Agnieszka Labus
Economy, in my opinion, is the bloodstream - because what drives the city is the economy, the diversity of professions and talents, the opportunity for development. Without this, no urban structure can survive. Infrastructure, on the other hand, is the bones - a solid foundation that is hard to see as long as it works, but which determines the efficiency of the whole organism. If it fails, everything falls apart.
You also mentioned the cultural DNA of the city. What function does it play in this organism?
For me, it is one of the absolutely key elements. The culture and identity of a place make a city not just a collection of buildings and streets. They are what build uniqueness and a bond with the space. The "I Amsterdam" campaign demonstrates this perfectly - a strong city brand can attract tourists and strengthen the local economy, but this is just the tip of the iceberg.
In my opinion, more interesting are the so-called artifacts of the past - not necessarily literal, but present in the material, in the urban layout, in references to history. We as humans like memories, we need them. Meanwhile, cities are often designed without respect for this identity - and yet it is this identity that can be the impetus for building a deep relationship with a place.
So to summarize: we have green lungs, a social nervous system, an economic bloodstream, cultural DNA, an adaptive metabolism and infrastructural bones. This is what the organism of urban long life looks like to me.
City for Eternity, EverCity exhibition - Photo by Agnieszka Labus, Malgorzata Bielawska and Katarzyna Swieteknabackground of the exhibition "EverCity - City for Eternity", of which it was a part. The project talked about urban planning that supports long life, based on relationships, health and social justice.
Are there contemporary cities that are executing this vision of a healthy, resilient urban body well?
An interesting example is Singapore, which is trying to combine modernity with nature by designing a climate-resilient city. There they are combining greenery with advanced technologies and a high quality of life. But it's worth being careful with this approach - many concepts look good on paper, and the question is: do they really work? You have to look at the data, look at how they translate into the lives of residents, not just the visual effect.
Another example is Medellín, Colombia - a city that for years was regarded as one of the most dangerous in the world. Today it's a green metropolis with a network of thirty green corridors that connect public spaces to jobs and services. This was not just an aesthetic change - it was a structural transformation, based on the idea of the city's adaptive metabolism. It's about the city's ability to adapt - to current needs, but also to the challenges of the future.
Detroit is another example - a city that not only found itself on the brink of collapse, but actually fell. And yet it has risen. This ability to regenerate is also part of urban longevity.
What actions - preventive and reactive - can we take in response to an aging population? And which elements of urban infrastructure can realistically reduce the risk of diseases of civilization?
Let me start with what I say very often: in urban planning we need to move from a reactive to a proactive approach - a bit like in medicine. Instead of curing, prevention is better. It sounds trite, but in practice it's a huge challenge, because prevention doesn't bring immediate results. And we are accustomed to project thinking - to point actions, locked into an investment or a specific task. Meanwhile, prevention is a process.
So we need long-term and multi-level actions - from strategies to micro-interventions?
Yes, we do. And it is worth specifying the scale here - for me the most important thing is not so much the neighborhood, but the neighborhood. Neighborhoods are sometimes administratively defined, but the neighborhood is our everyday life - the space with which we are emotionally and behaviorally connected, regardless of borders. And it is the scale of the neighborhood that matters most from the perspective of preventive urbanism. Studies show that the quality of a neighborhood - the availability of services, green space, transportation, healthy food, but also neighborhood relationships and the absence of environmental stressors - has a direct impact on life expectancy and quality of life. In Warsaw, for example, the difference in life expectancy between neighborhoods reaches 10 years, in London even 12. This confirms that where we live really "enters our bodies."
Is it possible to design longevity? - Principles for creating a city that supports a long and good life - from data to daily habits. Presentation from a talk at Łódź Design Festival 2025.
© Agnieszka Labus
What do you mean by "environmental stressors"?
I mean elements of the environment that cause long-term stress - e.g. lack of announcements of changes, non-transparent investment processes, ignoring the voice of residents. If blocks of flats are suddenly built in a quiet neighborhood of single-family homes, without explanation or dialogue, people feel threatened. The lack of real consultation - more than just announcements on the BIP - translates into frustration and stress, which affects health. Prevention is also a matter of a planning process and communication with residents - and it's an ongoing process, not a one-time thing. We need real diagnoses at the neighborhood level, not general strategies for the entire city. It should be a kind of patchwork - different neighborhoods have different needs. And today everything is often lumped together, even though the data is fragmentary and sometimes not available at all.
Working with architecture and urban planning students, I see how difficult it is to get specific information about the availability of services or healthy food at the level of neighborhoods or neighborhoods. At the Silesian University of Technology, I teach classes with architecture and urban planning students - including the subject "City Structure." We analyze specific localities, often at the level of districts and neighborhoods - for example, in Gliwice or Katowice - and look at what promotes longevity. Students try to conduct diagnoses, prepare urban inventories, but very quickly it turns out that basic data is missing.
It's not just about access to services, but, for example, the availability of healthy food, local markets or food policies - yet these are elements that directly affect quality of life.
Healthy food as part of urban planning?
Definitely! One of the basic elements of urban prevention concerns precisely daily eating habits. Questions like: where can I buy healthy products? do I have a market within walking distance? is there access to local products in my neighborhood? - are fundamental. In Poland, the topic is only in its infancy. Warsaw has the first urban food policy, but there are still no answers to the basic questions. It's not just about availability - awareness is equally important. If people do not know where and how to buy healthy products, adequate demand will not be generated. And then local initiatives - markets, cooperatives, small stores - don't have a chance to survive. They often lose out to large chains, whose offerings are sometimes cheap, but do not necessarily support a healthy lifestyle.
All of this translates into the daily choices of residents, and consequently into their health. Just look at clinics: in places that by definition should promote health, often the only offerings are vending machines with candy bars. There is a lack of water sources, fresh snacks, any alternative. With the rising incidence of diabetes, heart disease and cancer - the leading cause of death in Poland today - such neglect can no longer be ignored.
Lifestyle is not shaped solely by individual decisions. It is determined by our environment - what we have at our fingertips, what is advertised, available, supported. And this, in turn, directly affects the quality and length of life.
That is, planning a longevity-friendly city must start with a diagnosis - and a very local one at that.
That's exactly right. We need tools, data and awareness that the health of residents starts much earlier than in the doctor's office. It starts in public spaces, in the store around the corner, at the market, on a neighborhood bench. That's why it's so important for a city strategy to be based on a real diagnosis and the local context - not a general assumption that "all residents have the same needs."
A great example is the "Compassionate Frome" project from the UK - the one that started "prescribing relationships" instead of drugs. It was initiated in 2013 by Dr. Helen Kingston, a GP, and Jenny Hartnoll, a local community animator. It was a response to the growing problem of loneliness, especially among the elderly, in the town of Frome.
What exactly did the project consist of?
Instead of treating only the symptoms - that is, illnesses resulting from isolation, loss of motivation or a decline in self-esteem - it was decided to act differently. The cure was to be... social ties, relationships. A new model of working in clinics was introduced: instead of a traditional prescription, patients were given referrals to interest groups, local initiatives, clubs and social activities - that is, where they could again feel needed, seen, part of a community.
Some 700 volunteers were involved, helping to map the city not only in terms of medical infrastructure, but also relational places: where people could meet, talk, act together. They also worked with experts - doctors, nutritionists, psychologists, sociologists - to match forms of support to individual needs. Even transportation and company were organized for people who were afraid to go to the first meeting alone.
The results were spectacular. Between 2013 and 2017, the number of emergency hospitalizations fell by 15%, while county-wide, they increased by 30%. At the same time, an increase in the number of local ties and an improvement in the well-being of residents was noted.
The Compassionate Fromemodel has become an inspiration for other cities - its principles have already been adopted in Plymouth and Inverclyde, among others, and the Welsh government is working on a county-wide Compassionate City Charter. The entire project is described in the book "The Compassion Project: A Case for Hope & Humankindness from the Town that Beat Loneliness" by Dr. Julian Abel and Lindsay Clarke. As the book's authors write, "Although we see ourselves as individuals, we live in the plural. Relationships and daily interactions - even brief conversations - can have a more powerful preventive effect than dieting, quitting smoking or losing weight.
What does this example say about the contemporary approach to urbanism and health?
It shows that modern urban planning is not just about designing buildings. On the contrary, it is often about non-design, about mindfulness, about good decisions based on a diagnosis of needs and available resources. About not inventing from scratch, but activating what we already have.
Prevention is about just that: not just physically adjusting the space, but also preparing people - mentally and emotionally - for change. Creating relationships, building trust, introducing changes at a rhythm that allows people to get used to them.
What about hard indicators - like urban greenery, physical activity, quality of space? Do we have any specifics here, too?
As much as possible. One example is the 3-30-300 rule: we should be able to see trees from three windows in the apartment, at least 30% of the neighborhood should be biologically active, and it should be no further than 300 meters to the nearest green space.
Interestingly, studies show that regular use of even a small patch of green space can extend life by 2.5 years. Loneliness - as Susan Pinker reminds us in her book "The Village Effect. How face-to-face contact can make us healthier, happier and wiser" - can be as harmful as smoking 15 cigarettes a day. Pinker, a developmental psychologist, cites research that shows that it is the daily, face-to-face relationships - with neighbors, friends, acquaintances - that are one of the most important factors in longevity, mental and physical health. He writes, among other things, that women with strong social networks are four times more likely to survive breast cancer than those who are lonely, and that people who regularly meet with others live, on average, up to 15 years longer. All this shows that the best cure for many of today's health problems is to be found.... in space. But not only the physical one - also the social one, provided that architecture and urban planning do not hinder us from being together. And that's why, for me, prevention does not necessarily mean designer, showy icons of architecture. On the contrary - many times such buildings can be repellent, unfriendly, difficult to tame. They are often not places where people actually feel comfortable.
Life cycle as the basis for an ethical city - Slide illustrating an approach to city planning based on three pillars: social value of life, environmental impact assessment and long-term costs. All of these form the framework for a city that supports the health and longevity of its residents.
© Agnieszka Labus
So the solution doesn't have to be inviting Starchitects to design spectacular buildings at all, as is often the custom?
Exactly! Often spectacular buildings are downright repellent - unfriendly, anonymous, inaccessible. Prevention is not design for design's sake. It's about everyday life - a neighborhood that encourages movement, walking, interaction.
Take the example of Copenhagen and their Ku.Be movement center - House of Culture and Movement. It's not a gym, pool or fitness club, but an open space for movement and activity for everyone - with ramps, slides, tunnels, nooks and crannies and places to climb. A place that encourages movement in a natural, free way, regardless of age or physical condition. Without stigma - not "for seniors," not "for children," not "for athletes".Ku.Be was designed as a focal point for the local community - a space that residents can co-create, take responsibility for and shape its functions according to their needs. The architects started from a very general premise: to create a place that would bring people together and improve the quality of life. The result is a new type of cultural building that combines elements of theater, sports and education. It is a space where both body and mind are activated - through movement, but also through meetings, exchange of experiences and informal integration. It provides an opportunity for people to come into contact with each other who might never meet on a daily basis. It's an example of architecture that doesn't impose but invites, doesn't label but opens - and that's why it can promote health, longevity and relationship building.
This sounds like designing based on lifestyles, not biological age.
Yes - metric age says less and less about a person. We know 70-year-olds leading active lives and 30-year-olds who are completely withdrawn. We need a completely different approach: looking through the prism of values, needs, habits. Not "intergenerationalism" by force - but natural encounters and communal spaces that don't pigeonhole users.
This is what we did in one of our projects with OtoDom in the report "Happy Home: The Sense(s) of Housing Change. " We didn't classify people by age, but by motivation: some move because they're looking for work, others because they dream of peace and nature. And it is these values that bring people together. Then intergenerationalism happens organically.
And in practice? What does such everyday life look like?
For me personally, it's simple things. I have 800 meters to the kindergarten, so every day I walk with my child - she on a bike, I on foot. Along the way, we talk, we meet neighbors, I stop by the bakery, maybe get something done at the post office. That's the unintentional movement - not as a workout, but as part of everyday life. This is healthy longevity.
We often talk about longevity, but for me the quality of life is just as important - or maybe even more important. That's why I like to use the term "healthy longevity." It's about being an independent, fit person for as long as possible, able to make decisions for yourself. Because that's what successful aging is. Sometimes we think that longevity is hereditary - "my grandfather lived 90 years, so I'll live a long time, too." - but studies show that genes are responsible for only about 20% of life expectancy. The rest is lifestyle and environment. Rather, we inherit habits - diet, lifestyle, approach to health. And that's what we can change. Whether we move, whether we have relationships with others, whether our neighborhood encourages us to be active - all these things affect our daily life.
Longevity? It's being designed! - Pictured is Agnieszka Labus during her talk at Archiblok. In the background is an illustration promoting the idea of "longevity architecture" - design that supports health, social relations and daily habits.
© HAWA
And the movement? It's not about obsessively counting steps - "because the app shows I'm still 2347 short of ten thousand today." This popular recommendation, while media-savvy, doesn't take into account the context: lifestyle, age, physical capabilities, housing conditions. It's not about making longevity another task to tick off. It's about daily habits - about a neighborhood that naturally encourages movement. Even if it's not perfectly designed, it can work. In my case, it's the route to the kindergarten - ordinary, unspectacular, but everyday.
That's why health-supportive urbanism has to start with asking how people realistically function in their environment. If a bike path runs comfortably, is attractive, safe - that is, for example, laid out through a green area instead of along a highway, people will start using it. The difference is in the details. Investment alone, the assumption that one has made "x kilometers of DDR" is not enough - one needs a project based on understanding, and then evaluation: who uses it, how often, and how does it affect the lifestyle of the residents?
It's worth asking ourselves: are we designing infrastructure for active people who cycle anyway, regardless of conditions? Or are we targeting those who haven't moved at all until now - and it is through a thoughtful environment that they can start? It's the latter group that most accurately demonstrates whether solutions actually promote health and prevention.
It's easy to think about designing such places in the context of affluent neighborhoods - where there is greenery, bike paths, and aesthetically pleasing buildings. But what about degraded areas? For example, neighborhoods in Silesia, where your students' research shows how many urban and social challenges accumulate. How do you design there - in places without a lot of resources and political attention?
This is a very good question - and a very important one. In such areas, often lacking funding, one speaks of forgotten territories. Indeed, in many cities we see the same phenomenon: investments are concentrated in the centers, which are supposed to be the city's showcase. It is the market square, the main street, the fountain - everything that looks good in social media and promotional materials. Meanwhile, most residents use not the market on a daily basis, but their own neighborhood. Sometimes they don't even show up in the center for years. Their quality of life is influenced not by these big revitalizations, but by their immediate surroundings and everyday life, relationships, access to services. And there is often nothing going on there.
A colleague of mine wrote her doctoral thesis on patronage estates, just in Chorzow and other Silesian cities. These are places that are struggling - economically, infrastructurally, sometimes socially - but at the same time there are very strong neighborhood ties and a deep identification with the place. That's something. Which is a great value and something that is often lacking in these "better" neighborhoods. It is this potential that can and should be strengthened. But not by imposing ready-made solutions from above - but by process. A real, attentive one, based on listening to residents. Without this - even the nicest playground will not fulfill its function.
An ethical city, or what kind of city? - A slide presenting a juxtaposition of two planning models: a city of appearances and an ethical city. Agnieszka Labus stresses that design based on ethics, data and long-term health effects should be the standard, not the exception.
© Agnieszka Labus
So it's a question not only of space, but also of residents' subjectivity.
Definitely. If we don't listen to people's real needs, it's hard to talk about effective design. Sometimes meeting places are the most important, other times access to services - but always adapted to the daily realities of residents' lives. Also the financial ones. After all, the point is not to put a luxury store in a place where no one can afford it. Instead, what is needed are solutions that stem from the local context. Those that truly serve people and do not segregate them into "better" and "worse". This is brilliantly demonstrated in the book "Radical Cities" by Justin McGuirk - one of the most inspiring reads I've had my hands on. The author travels through Latin America in search of bold answers to the questions: how to design a just city? How to break down divisions and exclusions?
He describes not only architects, but also community activists, residents, local communities - people who are changing their cities from the bottom up, often on a low budget, but with great imagination and determination. It's a book about how real change begins where the difficulties are greatest. In places thought to be unsalvageable. It's from this book that I learned about projects that have inspired me for years.
For example?
For example, the cable car in Medellín that connected poor neighborhoods to the center. Or the bus system in Bogotá - fast, accessible, designed with pride, in intense red. As the mayor there said: public transportation must be attractive, because the poorest people use it. And since the poorest - it must be the best, not the worst.
This approach shows that designing for the weakest should not mean a "budget" version, but a priority. As in a mountain hike - we adjust the pace of march to the weakest, not to the strongest, because only then will we all reach the top.
That is, inclusive design requires courage and social awareness. But can it be applied not only at the scale of a city, but also of a single neighborhood?
Definitely. We worked on the socio-spatial concept of the Warsaw district together with BGK Architects, and there the conclusions were very clear: the key is diversity - development, types of housing, forms of ownership. If in one space we have people with different financial capabilities, but similar values, lifestyle and approach to the neighborhood - then we have the conditions for a real community to emerge. They don't have to have the same amount of money - they have to have something in common.
Community does not come from wallet wealth, but from attitudes and relationships. Someone may own an apartment, someone else rent, someone else live with the help of a support program - and together they can go biking, share a garden, have picnics. Lifestyle does not depend solely on income. This is a thought worth transferring to urban planning - and that too in neighborhoods that are facing a crisis. Architecture and urban planning are also sociology and psychology. If we do not recognize the social context - the design will be a miss, even if it is visually beautiful. This is the foundation of effective design.
Is this place conducive to a long life? - Slide from Agnieszka Labus' talk showing the most important elements conducive to longevity: social relationships, access to nature, movement, well-being and a healthy lifestyle - all rooted in everyday space.
© Agnieszka Labus
To conclude - a more open-ended, imaginative question: tomorrow we wake up 30 years later. People live 120 years - in health, in different family models: patchwork, hybrid. What would our environment look like then? What would we see when we leave home?
If we really succeeded in building a society that lives long and healthy, I think first of all it would be a less frustrated society. Less stressed. More aware of the impact of their surroundings on their well-being.
We would see a variety of spaces - ones that allow everyone to spend time in their own way, but without excluding others. We would have more openness - to different lifestyles, to new acquaintances, to neighborhoods. Also, of course, more relationships - because we would just be thirsty for them. I hope that technology would no longer be a wall that separates us, but a tool that we use wisely, in moderation. I see a future where architecture does not close, but opens - to people, to space, to being together. I dream of a house not being a box cut off from the world, but part of a fluid structure - where architecture naturally connects with the environment. Shared space should exist - but not as an obligation, but as a possibility. And one that one wants to use.
Finally, I can give a very personal example. I have lived for several years in a small city, in a single-family house. At first, I didn't know my neighbors, except the ones closest to me. But when I became a mother, I realized that children growing up in houses often have great conditions: they have their own room, a garden to play in - but they lack relationships. They lack hustle and bustle, spontaneous gatherings, shared yards. Awareness of this was the impetus for me to change something. We met other parents - in classes, on walks. And today it looks like this: in the afternoon my husband brings three or four children. They pick up friends from neighboring houses on the way. Suddenly I have seven children in the kitchen eating dinner. And you know what? This is beautiful. I hear from them: "may daddy not come too soon!". For me, it's a signal that we are on the right track. And that we have influence. Because it's not about whether we live in a block of flats, or in a house, or in a villa, or in a townhouse. It's about whether we are able to notice what is missing - and try to build it. Even with small steps: a communal campfire, a tent in the garden, a conversation over the fence. These are the things that really build a sense of happiness and rootedness. And which, I am convinced, have a direct impact on how we live - and how long we live.
Agnieszka Labus
Agnieszka Labus - architect, researcher and educator, pioneer of longevity architecture in Poland. Assistant professor at the Faculty of Architecture at the Silesian University of Technology, founder of the LAB 60+ Foundation and expert of the Council on Senior Citizenship Policy at the Chancellery of the Prime Minister (2024-2026). She actively combines science with business practice - she coordinated the implementation of the first Multigenerational House in Poland in Lodz, consults on intergenerational and senior projects, conducts accessibility audits, trainings and workshops for business, organizations and institutions on designing for longevity, social innovation and real estate trends.
