A reflection on ARB’s latest guidance, and the gap that still remains for architects

There is a quiet but dangerous assumption that crops up time and again in existing buildings: if a wall looks lightweight, it must be non-loadbearing. And if it is non-loadbearing, its fire rating can probably be reduced without consequence.

Positive Input Ventilation (PIV) has become something of a quiet success story in housing. It is simple, relatively cheap, and often effective at tackling condensation and mould by introducing a continuous supply of fresh, filtered air into a dwelling and displacing moist air.

A BBC story featuring a disabled teenager campaigning for legal change on evacuation planning should make uncomfortable reading for anyone involved in fire safety design.

There is a quiet shift underway in fire engineering. It is not about new guidance, new tools or even new regulation. It is about something less comfortable: whether the profession is prepared to learn in public.

Fire safety design continues to be framed, in many projects, almost exclusively around life safety. This is entirely appropriate as a minimum objective. It is not sufficient as a sole objective.

The industry has, understandably, leaned heavily into certification over the past decade. Third-party schemes, registers, accreditations and badges have all become more visible, more structured, and more frequently demanded. This is, in principle, a positive development.

There remains a persistent and, frankly, dangerous misunderstanding at the heart of fire safety design and delivery: a product that has been tested is assumed to perform in any configuration in which it is installed. It will not.

Compartmentation is often presented as one of the most fundamental elements of fire safety. Walls, floors, and doors are designed to resist fire and smoke, limiting spread and protecting escape routes. On drawings, this is usually clear, with lines defined, boundaries marked, and periods of fire resistance specified.

There has been a quiet but significant shift in the fire safety landscape.

There is a tendency, when dealing with historic buildings, to treat heritage as a constraint on fire safety.

A recurring feature of fires involving historic buildings is not the absence of expertise, but the absence of clear and sustained accountability.

Historic buildings rarely burn down because of a single failure. More often, fire is the outcome of a series of small, entirely foreseeable conditions aligning over time.

Fire safety design has traditionally been framed around compliance.

Fire safety design has traditionally been framed around compliance.

Fire strategies are often highly technical documents. They describe fire scenarios, model outputs, escape provisions, and system performance.

But there is a simple question that is not always asked clearly enough.

What does the client actually need this building to do in a fire?

Fire engineering is intended to be a design tool. A means of developing solutions that achieve clearly defined fire safety objectives.

But there is an uncomfortable reality.

It is sometimes used the other way around.

Fire engineering has enabled a generation of innovative buildings. It allows designers to move beyond prescriptive rules and develop solutions tailored to the specific needs of a project.

But it also raises a fundamental question.

The debate around Residential Personal Emergency Evacuation Plans is often framed as a question of inclusion.

Who needs help?

Who is at risk?

What is the right thing to do?

These are important questions. But they are not the most important question?

There are few areas of fire safety that expose the gap between policy ambition and operational reality quite as starkly as Residential Personal Emergency Evacuation Plans.