Borgund Stave Church: How to build a marvel of architecture without a single nail

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The Borgund Stave Church in Norway is one of the most remarkable medieval, wooden, buildings in existence. It was built 800 years ago and has anything and everything you would expect of a marvel of architecture standing in the middle of a forest: dark, weathered timbers, tiered roofs, and dragon-headed carvings.

But what makes the Borgund Stave Church even more extraordinary is not its stunning exterior, it’s the fact that not a single nail was used to build it…

Sit Back. Relax. And grab your cup of tea. Let’s dive in:

The secret lies in the material itself: Wood.

It sounds simple (and maybe even boring) but wood was the perfect material for this type of construction, with its natural strength and flexibility. Different types of timber were carefully selected based on their properties: oak was prized for its durability, pine for its workability, and cedar for its resistance to decay.

Builders often worked with freshly cut timber, as it was easier to shape, but they allowed the wood to cure and season naturally before construction to minimize warping. In the case of the Borgund Stave Church, timber was treated with tar to repel moisture and insects.

(The term "stave" itself refers to the wooden posts, or staves, that form the church’s structural skeleton. These are held together using joinery techniques that rely on precision rather than metal fasteners.)

But how was it possible to build something so everlasting, and why was this method even chosen?

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The answer lies in both necessity and unrivalled skill.

Medieval Norway lacked abundant iron, making nails an expensive luxury. Yet the scarcity of metal forced carpenters to master joinery techniques that wouldn’t just compensate but exceed the durability of nails. Each joint was meticulously crafted to create a snug fit that could bear immense loads while allowing for slight movement — a vital feature for wooden buildings that expand and contract with changing temperatures and humidity. This flexibility is why the church has stood for over 800 years

As amazing as it is, the Borgund Stave Church isn’t an isolated marvel. Cultures across the world have used similar techniques to create some of history's most enduring wooden structures — Japan offers a fascinating parallel.

The Japanese tradition of building temples and shrines without nails — referred to as kanawatsugi (joinery) — is a marvel of architectural engineering. Structures like the Hōryū-ji Temple, built in the 7th century, remain among the oldest surviving wooden buildings in the world. The techniques involve intricate wooden joints and interlocking systems that are so precise, they hold together through the forces of gravity and friction alone.

What makes this tradition so enduring in Japan is its philosophical underpinning. Japanese builders treated wood as a living material.

They understood its grain, strength, and flexibility, designing joints that complemented these characteristics. Mortise-and-tenon joints, for instance, involved a projecting "tenon" fitting precisely into a corresponding "mortise." These techniques weren’t just about practicality — they embodied Buddhist ideals, particularly the concept of mujō (impermanence).

in doing so, they created buildings that flex with seismic forces rather than resist them rigidly, creating earthquake-resilient wooden structures.

And this type of architecture extends beyond Norway and Japan. Consider Kizhi Pogost, a church in Russia built in 1714 entirely. Its 22 wooden domes, crowned with hand-crafted shingles, are held together by interlocking joints. It’s particularly interesting as it shows the sheer monumental scale wooden architecture can reach — again without using a single nail.

And there is a whole city crafted without a single nail too: the Forbidden City in Beijing, China.

Although its monumental palaces are primarily stone, the wooden elements — like the Great Hall of Supreme Harmony — are all built with interlocking wooden beams and columns. This system is called dougong, a type of bracketry that provides stability.

(The roofs, meticulously layered with tiles and decorative ridges, are supported by this system allowing them to stand firm against the heavy load of the tiles.)

Much attention is given to the intricacies of this system, but the use of rammed earth in the foundation and walls played an equally critical role, helping to distribute the weight of the towering wooden beams so that the whole complex wouldn’t collapse in on itself.

And best of all, it stand 600 years later in the same glory as it was initially built (with help from a 16 year-long restoration project in 2005).

What unites these structures, whether in Norway, Japan, Russia, or beyond, is their reliance on craft rather than industrial materials. These buildings weren’t mass-produced; they were the product of skilled artisans who understood the limited resources they had to work with.

Yet with so many constraints, they still stand as true wonders of architecture (without a single nail) and continue to inspire us centuries later.

Until Next Time,

World Scholar