Visualizing a Sustainable Future in Rural Romania: Agrotourism and Vernacular Architecture

Abstract

In Romania, rural communities grapple with decades of depopulation and economic decline, endangering the natural and cultural richness of their landscapes. The implementation of Romania’s 2030 sustainable development plan presents an opportunity to reverse these trends by merging economic and community development with cultural preservation. This paper examines the potential for creating new livelihood opportunities through a program that integrates sustainable agrotourism with culturally appropriate vernacular architecture in Romania’s distinct rural regions. Focusing on two such regions characterized by significant rural population decline yet endowed with ecological services capable of supporting a diverse rural economy, we collaborated with an architect and landscape engineer to devise three specific and detailed agritourist housing scenarios. These scenarios draw upon local architectural forms harmonious with the vernacular landscape, providing accommodations for agrotourism guests and facilitating craft workshops for visitors interested in rural crafts and traditions. We evaluated the cultural appropriateness of the architectural designs through a social survey and assessed the broader social utility of the development plan via an expansive cost–benefit analysis, treating the project’s sustainability features as quasi-public goods. Such interdisciplinary endeavours are essential for effectively bridging conceptually driven social analysis with pragmatic design and planning strategies, essential for achieving sustainable futures for rural communities and landscapes, as exemplified by rural Romania.

1. Introduction

In this article, we investigate the potential of combining sustainable agrotourism and culturally appropriate architecture to meet the needs of rural community development in Romania and combat ongoing depopulation. Promoting sustainable development by encouraging the growth of rural tourism seems, at first, counterintuitive, since it would increase the rural population and its demands for rural ecological services. In reality, Romania’s countryside, long a site of modernist interventions for unsustainable productivity goals, remains under pressure to generate the sustenance for growing urban and regional markets. Without a resident rural population engaged in sustainable land uses, rural Romania is under even greater threat from large-scale unsustainable industrial agricultural practices. The long-term effects of this will be the further degradation of the rural environment, as well as the loss of Romania’s distinctive regional rural cultural forms.

Revaluing Romania’s local agricultural diversity requires a shift in how we assess the economic and cultural value of rural development. At the broadest level, this suggests a shift from productivism to more sustainable agriculture, whether under the guise of post-productivism or multifunctional agricultural regimes [1]. At the same time, we are skeptical of a wholly post-productivist framework since Romania’s rural economy will continue to depend heavily on large-scale agriculture. In keeping with Wilson’s discussion of multifunctionalism [2], we seek to draw upon rural traditions and lifeways as a path towards sustainable and culturally appropriate rural development. We propose a model project of rural agrotourist housing that achieves these twin aims, which we assess within an economic analysis of quasi-public goods derived from the project and a social survey of the perceived architectural integration within the local context.

Rural depopulation has become a pressing concern for many European countries, particularly in Eastern and Southeastern Europe. Romania faces a severe demographic challenge, with projections indicating a potential population decline from 19.2 million in 2021 to 12.9 million by 2060. This decline is driven by low birth rates, high emigration, and an aging population, with rural areas experiencing the most significant impacts. The Romanian countryside, once a site of traditional agriculture and rich cultural heritage, has been subject to various modernization attempts throughout the 20th century. From large agricultural estates to socialist collectivization and the failed sistematizare program, these interventions have often disrupted traditional rural livelihoods and accelerated out-migration. Today, Romania’s rural areas face the dual challenge of achieving economic sustainability while preserving cultural heritage in the face of globalization and EU market pressures. This study proposes a model for sustainable rural development that combines agrotourism with culturally appropriate architecture. This study proposes a framework for creating economically viable architectural projects by integrating traditional building practices with sustainable materials and design, with the goal of preserving local cultural heritage while contributing to broader sustainability objectives. This approach aligns with Romania’s 2030 strategy for achieving Sustainable Development Goals, particularly in developing sustainable rural/agritourism (SDG 8), reducing rural inequality (SDG 10), and fostering sustainable communities (SDG 11) [3].

Research questions:

• What are the economic and social benefits of implementing sustainable, culturally appropriate architectural designs in rural Romanian communities?

The economic and social benefits of implementing sustainable, culturally appropriate architectural designs are discussed in the context of multifunctional agricultural regimes and sustainable rural development [1,2].

2.

How do local residents and potential tourists perceive the visual integration and cultural appropriateness of sustainable agrotourism housing designs?

The perceptions of local residents and potential tourists regarding the visual integration and cultural appropriateness of sustainable agrotourism housing designs are informed by studies on cultural heritage and rural tourism [4,5].

1.1. Literature Review

1.1.1. Rural Depopulation in Romania

Depopulation in many parts of Europe has become one of the more pressing concerns for regional governments as it affects economic growth in the context of globalization. Loss of population through declining birth rates and emigration have also triggered broader anxieties about national survival in the context of globalization [6,7]. These trends have been especially pronounced in Eastern Europe [8,9]. Data on Europe’s natural population change rates for 2021 show the steepest declines in Southeastern (−7.2%) and Eastern (−7.9%) Europe, compared to −2.5% for the European Union [10] (p. 2). Emigration, meanwhile, compounds the population loss as large parts of the working-age population leave to escape unemployment and low wages. By 2060, medium-variant migration projections estimate a 40% loss of the working age population compared to 2015 [10] (p. 7).

Romania’s depopulation was evident even in the socialist period when the country’s leaders attempted to reverse a declining birthrate through strict pro-natalist policies [11,12]. Population decline resumed in the post-socialist period as declining birth rates were compounded by high emigration, interpreted as a response to Romania’s sudden exposure to global economic forces [13]. Romania’s population of 19.2 million (2021) today experiences a natural population change of −14% and net migration of −5% (Figure 1). Its future population is estimated to be 12.9 million by 2060. Meanwhile, it hosts one of Europe’s smallest shares of foreign-born persons (4%) compared to 12% for the EU as a whole and 15–19% for Germany and Northern Europe. Like many European countries, it has a rising old-age dependency ratio, placing a growing burden on the working-age population to provide direct or public indirect support for a growing elderly population (Figure 2) [10].

The pattern of depopulation in Romania is uneven and characterized by growing polarization whereby population growth is highest in areas of economic opportunity [16]. These more attractive population centers are the relative growth poles in the country, namely, Bucharest-Ilfov, Cluj, Iași, Timiş, and Sibiu, though their growth is insufficient to reverse national patterns [17]. Urban areas, which had benefited from industrial investment during the socialist period, have since been subject to deindustrialization, driving out-migration (Popescu 2014). This has produced urban shrinkage across all regions of Romania, with 57% of Romanian cities experiencing episodic or continuous demographic shrinkage since 1992 [18] (p. 12). Declining urban populations are associated with a declining number of firms; however, given the pervasive depopulation all across Romania, even economically expanding cities are usually experiencing population decline.

Depopulation has had even sharper effects in Romania’s rural areas. Within the larger depopulation processes, Romania’s rural population has fallen from 62% in 1966 to 45% in 2012, with a doubling of rural elderly as a share of the rural population from 12% to 24% [19] (p. 126). As expected by economic models, negative rural growth rates are associated with geographical isolation and industrial decline, which drive out-migration and decreased fertility rates [20]. Many rural locales have experienced population loss of 50% or more and in some counties, the number of disappeared village has continued to grow since 1992, particularly in the northeast (Botoşani) and Transylvania (Mureș, Alba, and Hunedoara) [21] (p. 110).

In response to depopulation, many governments have adopted pro-natalist policies but with limited effect in promoting population growth because, in most countries, policy has been poorly designed or resourced [22]. While these policies have had some effect in reducing childhood poverty, such as in Hungary and Poland, the policies may actually worsen conditions for the poorest families [23]. Romanian scholars have identified rural development strategies as one method of reversing depopulation [24]. These strategies primarily aim to retain a younger working population, including families, in rural areas. These policies have been largely ineffective in the case of Romania. Interestingly, there was evidence of return migration to Romania and its rural areas during the COVID pandemic, in keeping with a wider trend in Europe [25,26,27]. This reversal suggests that the factors pushing out-migration are not as insensitive to policy reversals as often imagined, although the pandemic introduced novel dilemmas and informational asymmetries.

The pattern of rural depopulation is quite varied in Romania, and there are considerable variations even within these regions. Rural development proposals must similarly consider the causes and patterns of population decline. In areas where agricultural efficiencies may be improved through diversification and skilling, out-migration may be slowed but not stopped [28]. One analysis identified the long-running factors predicting depopulation in the Romanian Carpathians, finding that some trends began in the 1960s as industrial policy encouraged growth in mining towns which have subsequently declined in size, while other regions were late to collectivization and are still marked by traditional agriculture [29]. Other policies focus on promoting rural tourism in tandem with strategies such as rewilding to increase rural amenities and attendant livelihoods [30,31]. Given the sensitive ecological and cultural diversity in Romania, the pursuit of rural resilience requires a tailored set of policy measures that provide new incentives appropriate to local opportunities [32].

1.1.2. Productivism and Rural Development in Romania

Rural development in Romania, as in other parts of Eastern Europe, reflects a history of large-scale political–economic changes over the last century. Before the nineteenth century, large agricultural estates growing corn and wheat were built on peasant labor. These estates dominated the better-growing regions in the east, south and the Transylvanian plateau, while livestock dominated in the Carpathian mountains. This pattern persisted until the emancipation of the peasantry in 1864, followed by rising demands for land redistribution and a need for improved nutrition to combat conditions such as pellagra [33]. A staple polenta-like food, mamaliga, based on millet, was gradually replaced with maize in the 17th and 18th centuries. Despite the arrival of agricultural science in the nineteenth century, productivist systems were not widely adopted until the next century. Land redistribution in the 1920s was later followed by social collectivization after World War II, yet these changes were insufficient to prevent starvation in areas [34] (p. 243).

Ceausescu’s regime introduced an increasingly coercive plan of social engineering in rural areas called sistematizare, which would have destroyed much of the traditional landscape in favor of orase agroindustriale (agro-industrial New Towns) [35]. Opposition to the plan included professionals, elements of the diaspora, and even Prince Charles, who lamented the loss of traditional agriculture and rural livelihoods. A lecturer at the University of Cluj and his colleagues were bold enough to write the president to remind him of Romania’s “peasant spirit” and “that the village was ‘a spiritual community established over many centuries [representing] the love of people for their land and for the house where they were born’”, quoted in [36] (p. 258). Only 24 such towns were started before Ceausescu’s regime came to end, and with it, sistematizare. The disruption of the rural economy during the socialist period, however, had already accelerated rural out-migration.

While Romania presents us with a complex history of agricultural development, it nonetheless faces a familiar dilemma in achieving sustainability in the context of rural population decline. The pressure on Romanian agriculture is to achieve highly capitalized productivist methods whereby a small number of laborers can farm efficiently, which tends to favor monocropping of large areas through the use of mechanization and large agrochemical inputs. Hypothetically, rural Romania faces the same future as the American Midwest, where declining crop prices favor farm aggregation and capital investment, leading to unsustainable ecologies and population loss. The difference is that Romania’s market is more exposed to regional agricultural competition, and capital investment in rural areas is far more scarce, conditions that deepened with accession to the EU common market [37]. By 2014, large agro-industrial farms comprised only 0.4% of holdings but covered nearly half (48.9%) of utilized agricultural areas [38]. Most holdings are small and economically unsustainable, contributing to out-migration, and without recourse to investment or assistance to ameliorate their limited productivity [39].

Agricultural tourism has always understood the unsustainability of modern agricultural development and its emphasis on massification and productivism over ecological preservation (e.g., [40,41]). Agritourism programs seek to shift parts of the agricultural economy from large-scale monocropping agribusiness to small-scale multi-product farms, with an emphasis on the provision and enjoyment of high-quality traditional food ways, rural crafts, and cultural programmes. This diversification of rural employment is meant to reduce out-migration pressures while maintaining economically valuable and culturally valued rural traditions. These schemes have their limits, however, not least of which is the need for professional tourism advice and training, improved rural infrastructure to improve access, and capital investment in farm facilities and business plans [4,42].

A growing body of research has revealed the value of traditional agricultural systems in promoting a more culturally appropriate model of rural development that contributes to sustainability goals (e.g., [5,43]). The FAO’s list of unique and often uniquely endangered Globally Important Agricultural Heritage Systems recognizes these as resilient systems of agricultural practices, achieved through the “accumulation of experience over generations, an increasing range and depth of their knowledge systems and generally, but not necessarily, a complex and diverse range of livelihood activities” [44]. While not all local agricultural systems may attain GIAHS status, the general concept of locally specific, culturally appropriate, and sustainable forms of rural economic development presents an opportunity for countries like Romania to diversify policy responses to unsustainable agriculture and rural depopulation.

1.1.3. From Cultural Appropriation to Culturally Appropriate Development in Rural Areas

Rural areas often possess their own historical reservoirs of identity, cultural traditions, spirituality, and community [45,46,47,48,49]. However, as rural areas become more diverse, with an influx of new residents from different backgrounds or villagers coming back from big cities or other countries, there is increased potential for cultural appropriation [50,51,52]. The unapproved use or adaptation of aspects of another culture, frequently by a dominant group from a minority group, is referred to as cultural appropriation. This can involve things like art, religious/spiritual practices, dancing, languages, or the way of dressing. It is important that cultural appropriation is not confused with cultural exchange, which involves understanding or respect and sharing between cultures [53,54]. Culturally appropriateness, on the other hand, involves the recognition, inclusion, and respect for cultural forms and practices that are fundamental components of cultural identity and community [55,56].

In southeastern Europe, these practices frequently occur where imagined forms of rurality adopt decontextualized, often commercialized forms and practices, such as the Alpine Chalet style home, which increasingly defines parts of the southeastern European rural landscape. Such introductions overlook and may displace regional cultural forms and practices that are an important part of a wholistic understanding of the sustainable rural landscape [57]. Some of these forms of cultural appropriation stem from public perceptions that cultural preservation limits the benefits obtained from rural regions. Scientific investigation, however, reveals that chaotic and unpredictable architectural environments can negatively impact humans’ well-being by causing stress and confusion [58,59,60,61,62,63]. Respondents, even if they are not aware of these effects, tend to choose cultural options that are more in keeping with their cultural context [64].

While this is a controversial topic, cultural appropriation in architecture is yet more complex because the architectural profession is based on influences and exchanges that mix cultural elements but which can sometimes be conducted inappropriately or disrespectfully [65,66]. Architecture, unlike some modern art forms, has long borrowed and adapted cultural motifs, local materials, and folk-building typologies. On one side, this allowed architects to create innovative and meaningful designs. When conducted without a grounded appreciation or respect for the original cultural context and a sense of place, these appropriations can be problematic [65,67]. Cultural appropriation in architecture is a nuanced issue without an easy answer; while it is important to understand the world and take inspiration from it, cultural exchange needs to be undertaken in a thoughtful and respectful manner [65,66,67,68].

It is imperative not only to exhibit thoughtfulness and respect towards the cultural sources that inspire architectural endeavors but also to conscientiously integrate and safeguard the integrity of the communities within which such projects are conceived. The phenomenon of cultural appropriation in architecture carries profound implications, often resulting in the dilution or outright erasure of cultural heritage and the concomitant attenuation of community identity. Such appropriation may be perceived as a disregard for the cultural ethos and values of affected groups, thereby engendering disrespect and harm. Addressing cultural appropriation in architecture necessitates a comprehensive approach, entailing rigorous investigation into the cultural significance of design elements, active engagement with and incorporation of community perspectives, and the promotion of diversity and inclusivity [69,70]. Throughout history, architecture has served as a conduit for cultural exchange, a tradition that ought to persist while prioritizing meticulous attention to inclusivity, respect, and the preservation of both cultural heritage and landscape.

1.1.4. Ritual of the Traditional Romanian House

Traditional Romanian houses were built without even a gram of cement, using only locally sourced natural resources: stone, earth, sand, wood. And yet, they have lasted over 200 years and are still inhabited and admired today. These builders followed cultural practices, something of a secret today, by which a house was not just a product of “engineering”; it was a true ritual. First, they did not buy their wood from the warehouse but procured it themselves. They went to the forest and carefully chose the tree that was going to be sacrificed. They searched until they found the right one for the house, stable, or roof. They chose it to the required length and thickness and used everything from it. It was not cut for no reason, as nowadays, people are frugal. Another “canon” was that the wood was cut in the months ending with “rie” in the Romanian language, i.e., October, November, January, and February, preferably on the full moon. In addition, prayers, or rather incantations, were said before cutting a tree. Only after observing this ritual did they cut the tree in two and put the thicker edge on the floor, the top on the rafters, the rest on the fire.

There are still some old people in Maramures, Apuseni, Tara Barsei, Tara Hategului, and Tinutul Padurenilor who know the prayers but do not want to say them today. This ritual passed down from generation to generation and they prefer it dies with them rather than leaving them to someone who does not need them. It is incomprehensible to us how a house made with wood cut according to the ritual never develops caries (small pests that attack the wood from the inside) but lasts; you feel good in it, physically and mentally. Wood, water, and forest fruits were used with great care, and through this spiritual attitude, humanity wins. The style in which it was built, full of respect for everything around, probably gives the house that positive energy [71].

As explained below, our study area focuses on regions of Romania where wood is the main building material. Stone is also used on a large scale, not only as a base foundation for one-level houses but also as a constructed plinth for the basement of taller houses. Now, it is used together with stone and brick, as well as the alternate masonry system with brick. The old shingle roof is increasingly replaced by the tile roof and, to a lesser extent, by the tin roof; also, the roofline moves towards the center of the building, losing the purpose of semi-sheltered space and becoming only a roof of the entrance staircase [72,73].

These different material traditions represent cultural adaptations to an ecological setting that also provides a basis for community. Without respect for regional rural practices and forms, sustainable agriculture and rural tourism would lack a sociocultural purpose and overlook the value of culturally appropriate localisms that give such projects a public value beyond mere housing or produce. Adapting, or blending, sustainable projects into their cultural context preserves, protects, evolves, and develops the rural areas by creating a harmonious and meaningful expression with the new construction that is authentic, honoring the surroundings. Blending new projects into a wider cultural landscape with respect to local construction practices and environmental services helps to ensure the project’s compatibility with, and value to, the local community and their history and identity [74,75,76,77].

One successful example of a blended rural architectural program within a sustainable development project is found at Poundbury in the United Kingdom. This project was begun in 1993 and today is about 80% complete, with a planned expansion by 2027. This manner of blending is the perfect example of respecting the rich heritage of Dorset and fitting the architectural pattern of local buildings, while achieving attractiveness, modern improvements, and providing a pleasing place where people can live, work, and relax [78]. An economic impact assessment of Poundbury in 2018 found that the development created 1760 full-time permanent jobs and added 114.47 million euros in annual gross value added, rising to 123 million euros when completed [79]. The tremendous success of Poundbury demonstrates that it is feasible to construct new industries and offices on competitive terms, as well as high-quality, traditional homes at reasonable costs, all within the framework of refreshingly innovative urban planning [80].

1.1.5. Valuing Culturally Appropriate and Sustainable Architecture as Quasi-Public Goods

How do we assess the benefit of culturally appropriate architecture as part of a sustainable agrotourism project? Architectural criticism and cultural commentary cannot, by themselves, convince stakeholders of a project’s viability. The architect and planner must provide the public with a plan, together with an analysis of its benefits and drawbacks. Development projects are typically assessed using a cost–benefit analysis (CBA), pioneered by Jules Dupuit, who was trying to quantify decision making on public works such as bridges and roads [81,82]. In quantifying the social benefits associated with infrastructure projects, Dupuit concluded that “the only utility is that which people are willing to pay for” [83] (p. 14). Such an approach lays out a supposedly objective basis for assessing the societal value and benefits derived from such projects. It is intended to ensure a consistent and data-driven decision-making process and is commonly used by businesses, governments, and project managers to evaluate investment decisions, policy proposals, and other initiatives before committing resources [84].

McEwan points out, however, that CBA produces estimates from the perspective of particular interests, typically public agencies, whose assessment may undervalue certain social benefits that are deemed ultra vires [85]. Sustainable development projects suffer when they are assessed as merely private goods, i.e., as projects that provide benefits only to investors and property owners. Projects may also be undervalued when assessed on short-term planning or political agendas rather than assessing the long-term outcomes required to undo multi-generation decline in rural communities. Alternately, benefits could be quantified as averted public costs, which the intervention prevented, such as reducing the carbon footprint, preserving culture and heritage, increasing human well-being, protecting the environment, and creating financial stability in rural areas.

We reframe our analysis by first properly identifying the forms of value produced by rural interventions such as agrotourism housing, craft demonstrations and workshops, and sustainable agricultural products. In some respects, sustainable development goals are like public goods, both non-excludable and non-rivalrous, meaning that more than one person can use it simultaneously without limiting access for others or making it less available to them [86,87]. Culturally appropriate architecture and locational considerations also contribute to a wider landscape aesthetic that cannot easily be captured by private agents; they arguably provide a public benefit. Sustainable development projects often seek to preserve the future availability of common resources, such as local fresh water supplies, which may not be excludable but may be rivalrous, meaning they could be overused in a “tragedy of the commons.” Mixed-goods are intrinsically private goods but are produced by individual consumers by means of private and public good inputs [88]. Quasi-public goods, however, are non-excludable but they may be rejected by a user, unlike normal public goods like fresh air or national defense, which one cannot refuse [89]. Although they are legally categorized as quasi-public goods because excludability is feasible, law enforcement, streets, libraries, museums, and education are sometimes mistakenly identified as public goods even though they nevertheless share some of the traits of public goods.

Quasi-public goods can better capture the wider social utility of sustainable rural development and culturally appropriate architecture than strictly private goods used in financial CBAs. These projects possess social utility in several forms, as identified above. We are especially encouraged by the perspective of analyzing sustainability projects as mixed- and quasi-public goods because these interventions are more discrete and therefore quantifiable. In other words, they can be seen to benefit a specific property owner and the wider community without necessarily becoming a public good. The former is easier to justify as a set of specific local beneficiaries, whereas the benefits of global public goods are abstract and diffuse. Already, sustainable finance mechanisms blend forms of public and private investment that shift the form of governance required to achieve sustainability goals. Such mixed goods are evident in European Union regulatory spheres and intervention mechanisms, but they often poorly translate into project finance schemes in the Romanian countryside [90]. It would benefit analysis if we recognized that sustainable development projects such as agrotourism and culturally appropriate architecture provide quasi-public goods that benefit a local community while also contributing to wider national or regional goals.

2. Materials and Methods

We are investigating how to assess the wider social utility of a sustainable and culturally appropriate agrotourism development project. In other words, how does a quasi-public goods analysis capture the benefits of agrotourist housing that is blended into the cultural landscape? As we explained below, we expect that these modes of construction will reduce the carbon footprint by using local environmentally friendly materials, while also preserving local rural identity and architectural heritage. How then can we measure the positive impacts on people’s well-being, the protection of the environment, and the stimulation of the local economy? As explained below, our research design incorporates two methods: (1) a social survey to gauge public responses to a fully developed agrotourism housing plan; and (2) an expansive cost–benefit analysis to assess the financial and social utility of these project as quasi-public goods. In our discussion, we will consider, finally, what modes of public regulation and investment national and local governments might pursue in support of these sustainable constructions instead of more conventional ones.

A team of researchers, in collaboration with an architect and landscape engineer, developed three specific agrotourist housing scenarios, each designed to capture local architectural forms and blend seamlessly into the vernacular landscape. These scenarios were created for areas selected due to their similar architectural styles, with the primary difference being the type of relief in each location. Drawing from local architectural reports and guidelines compiled by the Order of Architects from Romania (OAR) [91,92], which meticulously detail traditional styles and variations, the designs incorporated traditional elements such as multi-functional rooms, porches, attics, and summer kitchen annexes. For each scenario, two detailed cost variants were created: one using conventional building materials and the other using sustainable materials. This approach allowed for the isolation of the impact of material choice while maintaining architectural consistency with local traditions. The scenarios—a duplex concept, a workshop-enhanced design, and a larger complex—were all designed to provide flexible spaces for agrotourism guests and craft workshops, offering opportunities for visitors to engage with rural crafts and traditions. The assessment included both a cost–benefit analysis comparing the conventional and sustainable material variants, as well as a survey evaluating the visual integrity and cultural appropriateness of each scenario. This comprehensive approach enabled the assessment of the costs and benefits of these projects, including direct, indirect, and intangible dimensions, while also gauging public perception of their visual and contextual appropriateness. By maintaining consistent architectural designs across both conventional and sustainable variants, the study focused on the impact of material choices within culturally-appropriate frameworks, thus addressing the research goal of assessing sustainable and culturally appropriate agritourism development as quasi-public goods.

2.1. Study Areas

We have selected two rural regions of Romania (Figure 3) for this study based on their similarities in terms of traditional construction characteristics. These regions have experienced significant rural population decline over the last several decades yet possess ecological services that could sustain a more diverse rural economy. The first location is in the hills of Cluj (Dealurile Clujului) (see Figure 3, blue marks) with villages from the counties of Cluj and Sălaj. The second location is on the plain of Transylvania (Câmpia Transilvaniei) (see Figure 3, green marks) and includes villages from the counties of Alba, Cluj, and Mureș. These sites are similar in most respects except for a change in relief and the suitability of subsoil construction techniques, e.g., cellars.

Rural livelihoods in these areas include the following activities: forestry and logging, beekeeping, processing agricultural products (cheese, butter, meat products), fabrics (linen, hemp, wool), fruit growing (which has a long history in the area and serves as a significant source of food and additional revenue through the sale of fruit-based drinks), animal breeding, and agriculture (the cultivation of cereals, potatoes, hemp, and vegetables). Heavier industry includes brick making, salt, woodworking, and wood processing, among others. Many of these activities are the outgrowth of traditional folk economies, which also sustain rich cultural practices. The local traditional peasant crafts that help to define these regions’ cultural landscape include woodworking, carpentry, stonemasonry, weaving, folk garment manufacture, folk art items, ceramics, textiles, leather and fur, music, and fiddling, which are examples of peasant crafts [91,92].

2.2. Study Scenarios

Working with an architect and landscape engineer, we developed a set of three specific agrotourist housing scenarios, complete with architectural and locational programs, building plans, and cost specifications. The building concepts capture local architectural forms and blend them into the vernacular landscape while also providing space for agrotourism guests and for craft workshops where programming may be offered to guests who wish to learn rural crafts and traditions. Our team built out two detailed cost variants for each scenario, one using conventional building materials and another using sustainable building materials. We then use the three scenarios and two variants to accomplish two tasks related to our research goal of assessing sustainable and culturally appropriate agritourism development as quasi-public goods (see

Table 1. Assessment scheme for scenarios and variants.

Assessment Method:	Cost–Benefit Analysis	Questionnaire
	Material Variants	Survey Dimensions
Scenario A: Duplex	Conventional Sustainable	Visual integrity Cultural appropriateness
Scenario B: Workshop	Conventional Sustainable	Visual integrity Cultural appropriateness
Scenario C: Complex	Conventional Sustainable	Visual integrity Cultural appropriateness

). First, we assessed the costs and benefits of the projects to include the direct, indirect, and intangible dimensions of each scenario and produced a more detailed CBA. Second, we surveyed respondents to assess their assessment of the visual integrity and contextual appropriateness of each scenario.

In designing these projects, the architects and landscape designers on our team drew from local architectural reports and guidelines compiled by the Order of Architects from Romania (OAR), which detail the local styles and variations in careful detail. The traditional houses in our study areas typically consist of two or more rooms, a porch (verandah) that usually serves as an anteroom, and an attic and sometimes pantry or cellar. The living room has a multifunctional role, serving as a living space, a storage space, and a kitchen in cold seasons, while during the warm seasons, cooking is done in out-building annexes called “summer kitchens” to keep the cooking heat out of the main house. In houses with two rooms, one is intended for living and one for special occasions, including the preservation and protection of special traditional clothes and valuables [93]. We developed three study scenarios that draw from these traditional elements while introducing the possibility of sustainable materials.

The first scenario is a duplex concept (see Scenario A, Figure 4). The architectural style borrows from the traditional one-story house style in the area, both in footprint and elevation. A long linear central beam creates a series of rooms that may be divided into two subunits for flexible occupation. The duplex offers the possibility for an owner–occupant to live in half of the house, letting out the other space for guests. The division allows the occupants to occupy the space separately or to share the whole of the duplex, if a host wishes to provide a family-centered experience with the guests. Alternatively, both sides can be rentals for different groups or for a larger group visit. The duplex can house six guests in an area of 76.32 m², of which 62 m² is habitable, in addition to which is a summer cooking annex of 26 m².

The second scenario adds a workshop or crafting area to the duplex concept (Scenario B, Figure 5). This home is suitable for larger groups of tourists, when the owners do not live there, or when the hosts live there and want to offer a more personal hosting experience. Alternatively, the central workshop space can be used for demonstrations with guests or as part of a crafting business. This flexibility adds to the possible uses and benefits of the basic home form, providing space for up to nine guests and providing a usable area of 101 m², as well as a summer cooking annex. Versions A and B can be added to an existing village, and the architectural design of the new construction blends well with the traditional housing construction and style.

The third scenario provides an entire village complex for tourist development (Scenario C, Figure 6). This concept is intended to provide either a new settlement or to rehabilitate villages that have been wholly abandoned or where structures are mostly unsalvageable. This tourist village development seeks to replicate traditional village layouts and functions. It is intended to provide a more complete experience for tourists by preserving the various specializations of use and rural industry, providing visitors with an educational experience concerning the local culture and way of life. By providing housing and income for permanent residents and space for visitors, this concept could create new economic opportunities. For example, these spaces could include a living–learning retirement community for people who prefer to stay active by learning, working, and educating younger tourists. Similar social programs for rehabilitation, safe housing, or youth programming could make good use of the complex at different times of the year.

The village complex provides the means for social connection and common purpose whereby people can cooperate to grow a functional rural community. The model complex shown here provides nine duplex houses (Version A) which will have gardens for vegetable crops and flowers, as well as space for orchards and intensive animal husbandry. The complex also includes three workshop/craft houses (Version B), as well as common spaces such as a main square for community activities and festivals and a restaurant with a menu based on the products available that season. Visitors can learn about the village and its surrounding countryside, beginning from an observation tower with a local museum at the bottom and a coffee shop. They can explore the village and its environs using walking paths and a bike trail, bringing them closer to village life and local culture. The complex could be built as a centrally managed project, such as for rentals and programs, or developed as a series of individual investors with a community board.

2.3. Cost–Benefit Ratio—Simplified Version

The profitability of a project can be identified through a simple cost–benefit ratio formula. This ratio is calculated by dividing the sum of present value benefits by the sum of present value costs [84].

In interpreting the results, a ratio less than 1 indicates a negative outcome, suggesting that the project is not a good investment. Conversely, a ratio greater than 1 indicates a positive outcome, implying that the project will generate financial benefits for the organization.

The present value formula (PV) is expressed as PV = FV/(1 + r)ⁿ, where FV represents future value, r is the rate of return, and n is the number of periods.

2.4. Project Manager’s Cost–Benefit Analysis Template [94]

2.4.1. Quantitative Costs (QC)

This template considers three types of quantitative costs: indirect, intangible, and opportunity. It includes columns for costs associated with each year, analyzing the next five years. Each column is automatically summed at the bottom, as well as the total cost [95]. Indirect costs refer to fixed expenses such as salaries, utility bills, and insurance (Kenton, 2024). Intangible costs can be identified but not easily quantified or estimated. While not directly measurable, these can significantly impact a company’s bottom line, with examples including loss of employee morale or brand damage [96]. Opportunity costs represent the value lost when selecting one course of action over another [97].

2.4.2. Quantitative Benefits (QB)

Quantitative benefits are divided into four categories: direct benefits, indirect benefits, intangible benefits, and competitive benefits. Each column automatically sums the benefits over a five-year period. Direct benefits refer to increases in sales or revenues due to a new product or service launch. Indirect benefits are measured by customer interest in the brand. Intangible benefits are difficult to measure, such as a boost in team morale. Competitive benefits are factors that place the business or project at an advantage compared to other companies in the same business space.

2.4.3. Cost–Benefit Analysis

In the final analysis, the four benefit categories and three cost categories are totaled column by column. The total cost can then be compared to the total benefit, providing valuable information to guide the decision-making process.

2.5. Survey

The survey was structured into three distinct sections:

• Demographic Information: This section gathered basic data about the respondents, including their country and county of origin, rural visitation history, residential environment, educational background, professional knowledge in relevant fields, gender, age, travel preferences, and accommodation preferences.
• Perception and Knowledge Definition: This part utilized a Likert scale (1–5) to assess respondents’ views on various aspects of rural architecture and tourism. Questions covered topics such as the importance of preserving local identity, the role of traditional architectural elements in new constructions, the significance of building aesthetics in rural vacations, the importance of vegetation in landscape integration, the necessity of harmony between new and existing structures, and awareness of architectural guidelines.
• Visual Assessment: The final section presented respondents with visual representations of potential accommodation structures designed in accordance with architectural standards. Participants were asked to evaluate these models based on various criteria, including height, street alignment, color hierarchy, landscape integration, and personal willingness to stay in such accommodations. This assessment also used a Likert scale (1–5) for responses.

The survey was implemented through Google Forms and distributed via social platforms over a two-week period. Participation was voluntary, and respondents could withdraw at any time. Confidentiality was maintained through anonymous responses and the absence of personal data collection. The visual materials used in the survey were developed using ArchiCAD for house designs, D5 Render for rendering, and Adobe Photoshop for photo collages, with background images sourced from Google Maps Street View [64].

This preliminary study focused on the rural regions of Alba, Cluj, Sălaj, and Mureș counties in Romania. The target population consisted of two groups: inhabitants of the study areas and individuals who had visited these areas. The sampling method employed was convenience sampling, utilizing online social platforms for distribution. This approach was chosen due to budget constraints and the need for a cost-effective data collection method. The study involved a total of 210 respondents, with 98% either residing in or having visited the study areas. Data collection was conducted using Google Forms over a two-week period, with the survey distributed through various social media platforms. Participation was voluntary and open to anyone with internet access and a computer/phone or any similar device. Ethical considerations were addressed by allowing respondents to withdraw at any time and ensuring anonymity by not collecting any personal data. This approach allowed for a diverse range of participants while maintaining ethical standards and accessibility.

During the main survey, it was observed that there was no significant difference in the way respondents answered the questions. Consequently, the decision was made to stop data collection at 210 respondents. However, for future research, it is recommended to consider a larger sample size if deemed necessary to enhance the robustness and generalizability of the findings.

2.6. Statistical Methods

Statistical analysis was conducted using IBM SPSS Statistics 28.0.1 (demo version). Qualitative data were presented using absolute and relative frequencies. A significant threshold of 0.05 (95% confidence level) was established. For continuous data deviating from the theoretical normal distribution, the median and the 25th to 75th percentiles were used for description. The Kolmogorov–Smirnov test was employed to determine the normality distribution of quantitative data. The Mann–Whitney test was utilized to test the difference between the visual impact and knowledge of the field for the scenarios. To assess the internal consistency of questionnaire items, the Cronbach’s Alpha coefficient was calculated, along with its confidence interval. These statistical methods were applied in accordance with established practices in data analysis [98,99].

3. Results

3.1. Assessment Method and Results: Cost–Benefit Analysis

Capturing the wider social utility of these projects through a cost–benefit analysis requires us to move beyond simple return on investment calculations. Our analysis captures three forms of costs for each of the first five years of the project: direct/indirect, intangible, and opportunity costs. Direct and indirect costs are fixed expenses such as materials, salaries, utility bills, and insurance that are necessary to bring the project to fruition [100]. Intangible costs, on the other hand, can be identified but cannot be quantified or easily estimated, while not directly measurable, intangible costs can have a very real impact on a company’s bottom line. Examples of intangible costs include loss of employee morale or brand damage [96]. Opportunity costs are the benefits of other options that an organization foregoes in selecting one plan of action over another [97].

We estimated benefits into four categories: direct, indirect, intangible, and competitive. Direct benefits are increases in revenues accruing from the selected activity. Indirect benefits are measured by occupant or guest interest in the housing concept. Intangible benefits, for example, the boost in the family morale or enjoyment of quality time together, can be more difficult to measure. Competitive benefits are those that place the business or project at an advantage over other options or uses in that market. Our extensive cost estimating and CBA revealed that all six scenarios (three conventional and three sustainable) over a period of 6 years yield a positive CBA ratio, which means that the project will generate both financial benefits for the organization and positive impacts for the wider community and environment (See

Table 2. Cost–benefit analysis (CBA).

Scenario		Bldg. Investment EUR	Util. (6 yr) EUR	Overall Cost EUR	Overall Benefits EUR	Public Goods	CBA Result
A Duplex	Conventional	94,450	39,812	414,548	468,033	No	1.1290
	Sustainable	98,422	29,859	408,567	468,033	Yes	1.1455
B Workshop	Conventional	112,029	39,812	441,389	546,788	No	1.2387
	Sustainable	115,39	29,859	434,646	546,788	Yes	1.2580
C Complex	Conventional	1,186,138	477,744	5,326,765	5,992,795	No	1.1250
	Sustainable	1,231,513	369,071	5,263,467	5,992,795	Yes	1.1386

).

3.2. Assessment Method and Results: Social Survey of Architectural Design

Our second method sought to assess public responses to the architectural/landscape design in terms of its visual appearance and integration with the rural context. We administered a voluntary and anonymous questionnaire using an online survey tool, distributed through social networks with accounts originating in Romania during a period of two weeks (2–16 March 2024). We collected complete surveys from 210 respondents of whom 98% came from Romania (206), while the other 2% came from Bulgaria (1), Germany (1), Lebanon (1), and Spain (1). Importantly, nearly all respondents (96.2%) either lived in or had visited the rural study areas of Alba, Cluj, Sălaj, and Mureș. About a third (36.2%) had a background in a field related to architecture and construction, i.e., architecture, landscaping, construction, and design.

Respondents were shown the architectural renderings developed by the team using ArchiCAD and D5 Render and placed within village scenes from our study area, taken from GoogleMaps street view. Respondents were first asked a series of questions about themselves and then questions about their understanding of traditional and rural development concepts. They were then shown the architectural plans and renderings for Scenario A and B. In response to the scenario renderings, respondents were asked about their preferences on a series of aesthetic dimensions, e.g., the configuration of the buildings in relation to one another, their blending into the landscape, color, vegetation, and whether they would be willing to stay in such a dwelling.

Responses were statistically analyzed in SPSS. Determination of data distribution normality was performed using the Kolmogorov–Smirnov test. The Chi-squared test was used to confirm associations between categorical variables, and for the theoretical frequencies that were less than 5, the Fisher exact and Mann–Whitney tests were used. To test the internal consistency of the items in the questionnaire, Cronbach’s Alpha coefficient was used [98,99]. The internal consistency of the questionnaire items was found to be robust. Analysis revealed a Cronbach’s alpha coefficient of 0.877, indicating high reliability. The 95% confidence interval for this alpha value ranged from 0.842 to 0.906, further supporting the strong internal consistency of the measure.

Table 3. Mann–Whitney U test—analyzing variables (H.S.A., color, hierarchy) with the visual impact.

Variables	Visual Impact			p-Value
	Yes	Neutral	No
Scenario A: Duplex	4.67 (4.00; 5.00)	3.83 (1.50; 4.92)	0 (null)	0.283
Scenario B: Workshop	4.00 (2.83; 5.00)	4.08 (1.58; 4.96)	0 (null)	0.946

x.xx (a.aa;b.bb) where: x.xx = median; (a.aa;b.bb) = the interquartile range.

and

Table 4. Mann–Whitney U test—analyzing variables (H.S.A., color, hierarchy) between those with professional knowledge and those without.

Variables	Knowledge of the Field		p-Value
	Yes	No
Scenario A: Duplex	4.67 (3.88; 5.00)	4.67 (4.00; 5.00)	0.783
Scenario B: Workshop	4.00 (2.83; 5.00)	4.00 (2.80; 5.00)	0.469

x.xx (a.aa;b.bb) where: x.xx = median; (a.aa;b.bb) = the interquartile range.

provide summary statistics of our two primary tests, i.e., respondents’ assessment of the visual integration of the project into its context and whether experts (those with professional knowledge of architecture, landscaping, construction, and design) differed in their assessment from other respondents.

4. Discussion

Our study evaluated designs for sustainable and appropriate rural development in Romania using two methods: a social survey and an expansive cost–benefit analysis. Our survey findings predominantly reflected positive reactions toward both the duplex (Scenario A) and workshop (Scenario B) structures, particularly regarding their visual integration and contextual appropriateness. The majority of respondents expressed strong agreement regarding the favorable visual impact of the duplex (Scenario A), emphasizing its harmonious blending with the surrounding landscape. Conversely, only a few respondents gave the scenarios a neutral assessment, and none rendered a negative evaluation of Version A. Similarly, respondents appraised the workshop (Scenario B) as contributing positively to the architectural landscape. However, the workshop’s location in close proximity to another structure, while aligned with the architect’s intent, garnered comparatively lower ratings from respondents. We also controlled for respondents who had a professional background in landscape architecture, but we found no overall significant difference between the groups in their assessment of Scenario A versus B (Table 4). Those with a professional background were somewhat more critical of the tourist complex concept but were overall very positive of the designs.

During the data collection phase, it was observed that there was no significant difference in the way respondents answered the survey questions. This consistency in responses suggests a level of homogeneity in the perceptions and knowledge of the participants regarding rural architecture and tourism. As a result, data collection was concluded at 210 respondents. However, it is important to note that the sample size was limited by budget constraints, and future studies should consider employing a larger sample size to ensure more comprehensive and generalizable results. A larger sample could help capture a wider range of perspectives and potentially reveal more nuanced differences in responses.

Our cost–benefit analysis puts to the test a problematic assumption about culturally appropriate and sustainable rural development, i.e., that the benefits to the environment, economy, and community are measurable but these projects are not affordable without subsidization. This assumption is not entirely wrong but largely overstated. Our designs have shown that sustainable construction provides a competitive cost basis to conventional materials; e.g., sustainable construction of the duplex costs EUR 98,422, compared to EUR 94,450 for conventional materials and methods. More important, from our perspective, are the larger benefits for sustainable rural development.

A cost–benefit analysis of the six scenarios developed by the architects on our team (three with conventional materials and three with sustainable materials) provided further evidence that sustainable houses have additional advantages—including those that cannot easily be monetized—not only for the inhabitants but for the entire community. This conclusion is possible only when we evaluate the benefit of these buildings as quasi-public goods. Discussing a sustainable way of building involves more aspects than just using certain types of material and reducing waste. Incorporating natural materials like wood, stone, and natural fibers, as well as textures inspired by nature, can create a more calming and restorative environment and has a more powerful impact on everything that surrounds us, such as by supporting human health, well-being, and fauna and flora conservation and the protection of the local heritage [101,102,103].

As described earlier, our cost–benefit analysis (CBA) encompasses the evaluation of goods that straddle the boundary between private and public goods. First, sustainable design yields environmental benefits and energy efficiencies. Sustainable design practices result in a substantial reduction in energy consumption, typically ranging from 20% to 30%, compared to conventional building methods, thereby lowering operational costs and lessening environmental footprints [104,105]. This approach also minimizes waste generation and enhances material utilization efficiency, consequently mitigating resource depletion [106,107]. Furthermore, sustainable design strategies contribute to improved air and water quality by eschewing materials with volatile organic compound emissions and ensuring adequate ventilation and moisture control measures [108]. These practices include a commitment to conserving natural resources, optimizing material utilization, and reducing life-cycle environmental impacts such as toxicity, resource depletion, and global warming [109].

Second, sustainable design fosters enhanced personal health and community well-being. Sustainable buildings provide superior indoor environmental quality, offering ample natural lighting, optimal thermal comfort, and overall improved occupant health, comfort, and productivity when compared to conventional structures [104,105]. Even if still a mostly philosophical concept, the principles of biophilic design provide advantages in building techniques, especially when paired with careful consideration of the landscape [102,110,111]. From a quantitative perspective, the potential health-related cost savings are significant, ranging from an estimated USD 6 billion to USD 14 billion annually, attributable to reduced respiratory diseases; USD 1 billion to USD 4 billion from diminished allergies and asthma; and USD 10 billion to USD 30 billion from mitigated sick building syndrome symptoms [107,112]. Sustainable building complexes also have the advantage of including communal spaces such as parks, public squares, and gathering areas, fostering social interaction and community cohesion [113]. Moreover, these developments are intentionally designed to promote inclusivity, social equity, and accessibility for individuals of all abilities [113].

Finally, there are economic benefits and job creation opportunities associated with sustainable construction. Sustainable construction necessitates specialized skills and expertise, thereby generating employment opportunities in design, construction, manufacturing, and the development of innovative sustainable technologies [113,114]. Moreover, sustainable construction projects can stimulate local economic growth and development by engaging local skills and supporting diverse agricultural and non-agricultural enterprises [115,116]. The advantages extend to every stage of the building’s lifespan, including the reduction in future repair and replacement impacts [105,106,107]. Many governments, for these reasons, are offering financial incentives for sustainable building initiatives, recognizing the multifaceted benefits they contribute to economic growth [105].

This research presents a comprehensive approach to evaluating sustainable agrotourism projects in rural areas, combining architectural design, landscape engineering, economic analysis, and social surveys. The study introduces a quasi-public goods framework for assessing these projects, allowing for a more holistic cost–benefit analysis that captures broader social and environmental benefits beyond traditional economic metrics. A key innovation is the emphasis on culturally appropriate architecture, demonstrating how traditional forms can be integrated with modern sustainable building techniques. This integration enhances project acceptance and long-term viability within local communities. The methodology combines quantitative economic analysis with qualitative social surveys, providing a nuanced understanding of both the financial feasibility and social acceptability of these initiatives.

This research has significant implications for policy development, rural revitalization, sustainable tourism, and architectural practice. It suggests that policymakers should adopt a more comprehensive approach when assessing rural development projects, considering wider social and environmental benefits. The study offers a potential model for combating rural depopulation by creating economically viable and culturally appropriate agrotourism projects.

In the realm of sustainable tourism, the research provides insights into developing initiatives that respect and preserve local cultural heritage while creating authentic experiences for visitors. For architectural practice, it underscores the importance of balancing traditional building practices with modern sustainable techniques in rural development contexts. While the study offers valuable insights, it has limitations. These include a focus on short-to-medium-term projections, which may not fully capture long-term impacts, and economic analyses based on current conditions that may not account for future fluctuations. Additionally, this study’s snapshot of cultural appropriateness may not fully capture the complex and evolving nature of cultural identity in rural areas facing demographic changes.

Future research could build upon this foundation by incorporating longer-term projections, more dynamic economic modeling, and a more nuanced understanding of evolving cultural dynamics in rural areas. Such expanded research would contribute to an even more comprehensive understanding of sustainable agrotourism projects and their impacts on rural communities.

5. Conclusions

Although it seems ironic, regions with population loss confront many of the same challenges in achieving sustainable forms of rural development as regions with rapid population growth. Romania’s countryside, long the site of unsuccessful experiments in agricultural modernism, bears the scars of persistent out-migration, which invites continued unsustainable resource use such as industrial farming and forestry. Rural livelihoods and traditional culture, meanwhile, are at risk of disappearing in the face of these pressures. Depopulating regions such as our study sites do possess one comparative advantage in that they are de facto rewilding, attracting tourists and providing opportunities to restore lower-intensity traditional rural craft industries. Our study tested the possibility for an alignment of rural repopulation with global sustainability goals through efforts such as sustainable and appropriate village design.

In line with United Nations 2030 Agenda and the European Union’s 2017 Sustainable European Future agenda, the Government of Romania has adopted its own 2030 strategy to achieve its sustainable development goals [3]. Rural Romania is on the agenda for many of the SDG goals, especially the development of sustainable rural/agritourism (SDG 8), reducing rural inequality (SDG 10), and the development of sustainable communities (SDG 11). Our project also addresses some of the oversights in this plan, especially the need to preserve rural intangible cultural heritage, which we argue could fall within the government’s strategy to “consolidate efforts to protect and safeguard cultural and natural heritage and landscape features from the rural and urban environment” [3] (p. 75). A self-study by Romania’s associations of communes and municipalities reveals that SDG implementation remains at an early stage and focused on basic needs, such as clean water and sanitation. Rural inequality remains a significant characteristic and is negatively correlated with SDG indices [117]. These are early days in Romania’s effort to achieve sustainable development goals, which must also address the economic and demographic context of Romania’s difficult post-socialist transition.

The main effects of the project on rural development:

Economic diversification: The project aims to promote sustainable agrotourism, which could provide alternative income sources for rural communities.

Cultural preservation: By incorporating culturally appropriate architecture and traditional practices, the project seeks to preserve local heritage and rural identity.

Environmental sustainability: The use of sustainable building materials and practices contributes to reducing the environmental impact of rural development.

Population retention: By creating new economic opportunities and improving living conditions, the project may help combat rural depopulation.

Social cohesion: The design of communal spaces in the proposed developments could foster social interaction and community building.

Health and well-being: Sustainable design practices are expected to improve indoor environmental quality and occupant health.

Job creation: The project could generate employment opportunities in construction, tourism, and related services.

Rural revitalization: By blending traditional practices with modern sustainability concepts, the project aims to create a more vibrant and attractive rural environment.

Our team of architects, engineers, and geographers sought to design a plan for a culturally appropriate architecture as part of a sustainable tourist village concept, a place where traditional practices could be shared with a new generation and with visitors in search of what rurality and nature have to offer. We showed how to assess these benefits (1) through a social survey that gauges the aesthetic appreciation of a culturally appropriate design and (2) through conducting an expansive cost–benefit analysis to capture the wider social and environmental utility of such a project. We have shown that interventions like ours are cost competitive and contribute to sustainable development goals in rural areas. Looking forward, adopting analyses such as those to measure “existence value” might help set more actionable bounds for public interventions to conserve intangible cultural heritage [118]. Interdisciplinary efforts such as these must engage in bridging conceptually driven social analysis with effective design and planning if we are to achieve meaningful sustainable futures for people and landscapes like those of rural Romania.