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Architecture and shelter : the roles and responsibilities of architects in meeting basic needs Bristol, Graeme Leslie 1992-12-31

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ARCHITECTURE AND SHELTERThe Roles and Responsibilitiesof Architectsin Meeting Basic NeedsByGraeme Leslie BristolB.A., The University of Western Ontario, 1973B.Arch., The University of British Columbia, 1980A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OFTHE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OFMASTER OF ADVANCED STUDIES IN ARCHITECTUREinTHE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES(School of Architecture)We accept this thesis as conformingto the required standardTHE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIAAPRIL 1992©Graeme Leslie BristolIn presenting this thesis in partial fulfilment of the requirements for an advanceddegree at the University of British Columbia, I agree that the Library shall make itfreely available for reference and study. I further agree that permission for extensivecopying of this thesis for scholarly purposes may be granted by the head of mydepartment or by his or her representatives. It is understood that copying orpublication of this thesis for financial gain shall not be allowed without my writtenpermission.(Signature)Department of Architecture, Faculty of Graduate StudiesThe University of British ColumbiaVancouver, CanadaDate  30 APR 92 DE-6 (2/88)ABSTRACT^ iiARCHITECTURE AND SHELTERThe Roles and Responsibilitiesof Architectsin Meeting Basic NeedsThis paper concerns the responsibility that thearchitectural profession has to the basic human needs of thesociety it serves. In order for the profession to meetthese responsibilities - to shelter, to a healthy workplace,to a liveable city - it must change and enlarge theparameters of practice. It must also become more directlyengaged in the ethics of the profession. The development ofarchitecture, however, has led in quite another direction.As a result, practicing architects believe that theirintended professional monopoly over the built environmenthas eroded considerably, while at the same time, the publicviews the profession as increasingly irrelevant to urgentsocial concerns.Because these social concerns are most compelling andruinous in the Third World, this paper has focussed on thework that some architects have undertaken there. Byexamining their work in support of the development ofcommunities in China and Southeast Asia, it is possible toextrapolate some common elements that suggest a way forpracticing professionals to act responsibly in honouring thehuman right to shelter.The opportunities for responsible action involve architectsworking for government bodies, educational institutions, andin private practice. In this work, architects have had torespond often in non-traditional ways in working for Non-governmental organizations and community-basedorganizations. The non-traditional, or enablingABSTRACT^ iiipractitioner uses architecture as a tool towards thedemocratization of the built environment. For theprofession to recover its relevance to society, these non-traditional tools and methods must become a more centralpart of the profession.Architecture, as well as the democratization process, has arole in the development of a sustainable future and it has aresponsibility, as a profession, to use its resources toaddress the basic need of shelter in society and to honourthe human rights derived from that basic need.TABLE OF CONTENTS^ ivTABLE OF CONTENTSABSTRACT ^TABLE OF CONTENTS ^  ivLIST OF FIGURES  ixACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ^  xiChapter1.11.21.31 INTRODUCTIONPROBLEM STATEMENT ^HYPOTHESIS ^METHOD .1^Literature review .2^Field Study ^.3^Analysis of data .4^Synthesis/Evaluation ^14445561.4 ORGANIZATION OF THE PAPER 6PART I CONTEXT ^ 8Chapter 2 THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE ^ 102.1 HISTORICAL ^ 102.2 PROFESSIONAL PRACTICE ^ 162.3 THE CURRENT PROFESSION 24.1^The Rise of Engineering ^ 24.2^Legitimation of Architecture ^ 27.3^The New Formalism ^ 302.4 THE BUSINESS OF ARCHITECTURE 33.1^The Marketplace 33.2^The Client ^ 36.3^Scope of Services ^ 40.4^Office Practice 422.5 THE PROFESSIONAL DILEMMA 45Chapter 3 ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION ^ 513.1 THE ROLE OF THE ARCHITECT ^ 523.2 PROFESSIONAL RESPONSIBILITIES 59TABLE OF CONTENTS3.33.43.53.63.7Chapter4.14BIRTH ^.1^Inequity ^.1^Foreign Aid and Debt ^.2^Structural Adjustment .3^Environmental Degradation ^.4^Development ^.2^Basic Needs .3^Needs as Rights .1^The Concept of Rights ^.2^Housing Rights ^.3^Needs as Rights .4^Environmental Rights ^.5^Responsibilities .6^Rights in Conflict .4^Distributive Justice .5^Responsibilities ^KNOWLEDGE ^.1^Use and Misuse of Knowledge ^.1^Design ^.2^Development .2^Triage .3^Triage in Architecture ^.4^Knowledge and Resources Allocation ^PROFESSION ^.1^The Professional ^.2^Professional Obligation in Society ^.3^Obligations to the Profession ^.4^Professional Responsibilities SELF RIGHT ACTION ^.1^Denial .2^Inaction .3^Right Action .4^Right Action in Architecture ^SELF-HELP AND ADVOCACY ^SHELTER AND SELF-HELP ^.1^Self-Help ^.2^Sites and Services .1^Installment Construction ^.2^Core Housing ^.3^Roof Loans .4^Sites and Services ^.5^Squatter Upgrading .3^Land Sharing ^.4^Training Programs .5^Urban Homesteading ^.6^Conflicts 66686973767881828384858889919497100101101103109114117118119119123125125130132133133137139142145149149150150152154155157159162TABLE OF CONTENTS^ vi4.2 ADVOCACY AND THE DESIGN PROFESSION ^ 163.1^The Barefoot Architect ^ 164.2^Community Design ^  171PART II^ARCHITECTURE AND DEVELOPMENT ^ 177Chapter 5^ARCHITECTS IN GOVERNMENT ^ 1815.1 THE ROLE OF GOVERNMENT INSTITUTIONS IN HOUSING 1815.2 INDONESIA ^  187.1^Background ^  187.1^Kampungs  188.2^Kampung Conditons ^ 189.3^Land tenure & Use  192.4^Community Organizations ^ 193.2^Policy Response ^  197.3^Architectural Response ^ 198.1 Kampung Improvement Program ^ 198.2^Building Information Centre  2085.3 THAILAND  209.1^Background ^  209.1^Housing Characteristics ^ 210.2^Land Tenure ^  211.2^Policy Response  212.3^Architectural Response ^ 2135.4 CONCLUSIONS ^  218.1^Administration ^  219.2^Distributive Justice  219.3^Policy  220Chapter 6^EDUCATION AND ARCHITECTS ^ 2226.1 THE ROLE OF THE EDUCATION IN HOUSING ^ 222.1^Education and the Profession  223.2^Education and Community ^ 227.3^CDC's as an Educational Tool ^ 230.4^Applications of the Model  2316.2 TSINGHUA UNIVERSITY - SCHOOL OF ARCHITECTURE 2346.3 ASIAN INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY ^ 2446.4 KING MONGKUT INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY ^ 2516.5 INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY IN BANDUNG  2566.6 CONCLUSION ^  260Chapter 7^ARCHITECTS AND NGO'S ^  2627.1 NGOs AND DEVELOPMENT  263.1^History ^  263.2^Organizational Structure ^ 265.3^NGOs and Architecture  266TABLE OF CONTENTS vii7.27.37.4PART IIIChapter8.18.28.38.48.5Chapter9.19.29.389GREAT EARTH RURAL DEVELOPMENT FOUNDATION ^.1^Site Specific Projects ^.2^Training Programs BUILDING TOGETHER ^.1^The Site .2^The Process CONCLUSION ^A CHANGING ROLE ^THE CANADIAN EXPERIENCE ^THE HOUSING ENVIRONMENT ^THE ROLE OF GOVERNMENT IN HOUSING ^.1^Federal Government .2^Provincial Government .3^Local Government ^EDUCATION ^.1^UBC Workshop and Studies Abroad ^.1^Workshop .2^Studies Abroad ^.2^CIDA sponsored programs .1^CUC-AIT ^.2^Centre of Excellence ^NON-GOVERNMENTAL ORGANIZATIONS .1^Self-Help in Canada ^.1^Squatting .2^Self-Help .2^The Urban Design Centre .3^Downtown Eastside Residents Association ^.4^StreetCity ^.5^Frontiers Foundation ^.6^Construyamos - The RAIC in Colombia ^THE ROLE OF ARCHITECTS .1^Architects in Government ^.2^Architects in Practice .3^Architectural Institutions ENABLING ARCHITECTURE ^INSTITUTIONAL CHANGE ^EDUCATIONAL CHANGE CHANGE IN PRACTICE .1^Requirements for Practice ^.2^An Alternative Practice .3^Obstacles to the Team Approach ^.4^The Shape of Practice .1^Types of Projects ^.2^Client Group .3^Funding ^267268272277277280285288289290292292300302309309309311314314315317317317323327332341346347354355355357358360363366367369371373373375375TABLE OF CONTENTS^ viii.5^Other Options ^  376.1^Volunteering  376.2^Third World Issues ^ 376.3^Full-Time Commitment  3779.4 CONCLUSION ^  378BIBLIOGRAPHYAPPENDICESAppendix AAppendix BAppendix CAppendix DAppendix EAppendix FAppendix GAppendix HAppendix IAppendix JAppendix KAppendix LAppendix MAppendix NAppendix 0407Scope of Architectural Services ^ 408Hippocratic Oath ^  409Code of Ethics - Engineers ^ 410Code of Ethics - Architects  412Experience Record Book - ExaminingBoard, AIBC ^  416Course Curriculum - UBC School ofArchitecture  418Curriculum - Barefoot Architecture ^ 419World Bank - KIP Design Criteria ^ 424Building Information Centre (BIC) -pamphlets ^  427Architects Act. ^  431CCDC 2 - The Architect'sResponsibilities in ConstructionContracts ^  448CCAC 6 - The Architect'sResponsibilities to the Client ^ 449"Linuh Bali" by Robi Sularto(Excerpts) ^  453AIBC - Speaker's Bureau Brochure ^ 458AIBC - Advisory Service Brochure ^ 460379LIST OF FIGURES ixFigure 2.1 Laugier's Engraving ^ 17Figure 3.1 Asian Neighborhood DesignSRO Furnishings  ^107Figure 4.1 Installment Construction ^ 151Figure 4.2 Core Housing Variation 151Figure 5.1 Sample Plans - Kampung House ^ 191Figure 5.2 Organizational Structure - Government ofJakarta ^ 194Figure 5.3 Organizational Structure - Kelurahan ^ 195Figure 5.4 Organizational Structure - LKMD(K) ^ 195Figure 5.5 Kampung Selection Criteria ^ 200Figure 5.6 Organization of Government Authority - KIPProject ^ 202Figure 5.7 Consultant Organization ^ 203Figure 5.8 Administrative Organization - CommunityDevelopment Department ^ 215Figure 6.1 Relationship of Theory to Practice ^ 226Figure 6.2 Courtyard Inf ill ^ 235Figure 6.3 Typical Apartment Block ^ 236Figure 6.4 Student Model of Courtyard Scheme ^ 238Figure 6.5 Land Use Planning - Ju'er Hutong ^ 239Figure 6.6 New Courtyard Housing ^ 241Figure 6.7 Plans of Pilot Project 242Figure 6.8 AIT - Enrollment by Country and Division .245Figure 6.9 AIT - HSD Tasks and Targets ^ 246Figure 6.10 AIT - Urban Land & Housing Development CourseSequence   247Figure 6.11a KMITN Presentation Drawings ^ 254Figure 6.11b KMITN Presentation Drawings 255Figure 6.12 Traditional 6-pole Building ^ 258Figure 6.13 Plan & Perspective of 6-pole Building ^ 258Figure 6.14 Existing 6-pole Building ^ 259Figure 7.1 Water Town Bridges ^ 271Figure 7.2 The Bridges of Zhouzhuang ^ 271LIST OF FIGURES^ xFigure 7.3^Sample contentsTown & Village Development ^ 273Figure 7.4^Planning Principles - Town & VillageDevelopment ^  274Figure 7.5^Construction Details - Town & VillageDevelopment  275Figure 7.6^Building Together - Site Plan ^ 278Figure 7.7^Building Together - House Plans ^ 279Figure 7.8^AIT Demonstration House ^ 283Figure 7.9^Building Together - Commercial Spine ^ 284Figure 7.10^Building Together - Mural ^ 284Figure 8.1^Downtown VancouverDevelopment Pressures  305Figure 9.1^The Human Settlements Approach ^ 370Figure 9.2^The Team Approach ^  370ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS^ xiI would like to acknowledge the generous assistance of theRAIC in providing their financial support for this researchthrough their "Burwell Coon" Travel Award.The support of Dino Rapanos of the School of Architecture atUBC as well as David Hulchanski and Prod Laquian of theSchool of Community and Regional Planning at UBC isgratefully acknowledged as is the ongoing effort of PeterSmith and Kris Olds in reading and rereading versions ofthis document.I would also like to thank a number of people in manydifferent countries who gave generously of their time duringthe course of this research:Bruce Etherington, HonoluluJin Oubo, BeijingChen Lijian, VancouverZeng Jian, BeijingWu Liangyong, BeijingQi Xuan, BeijingWan-Ying Tsai, ShanghaiHan Baoshan, BeijingYang Changshou, BeijingRuan Yi San, ShanghaiTao Ho, Hong KongPeter K.W. Fong, Hong KongPatrick Lau, Hong KongPeter Bay Wong, Hong KongBill Keyes, ManilaMila Reforma, ManilaNarin Sakul Clanuwat, BKKThrasuk Intaraprasong, BKKChadsri Bunnag, BangkokMohammad Danisworo, JakartaRobi Sularto, JakartaA. Yunadi, JakartaHenri Dharmawan, SanurFlorian Steinberg, JakartaNorton Ginsburg, HonoluluMei Mei, BeijingAlfred Peng, BeijingZhuaugyi Zheng, BeijingLana Tang, BeijingYang Xinyong, BeijingAprodicio Laquian, BeijingZhu Ming Liang, BeijingLuo Xiao-Wei, ShanghaiBao Jia-Sheng, NanjingLye Kum-Chew, Hong KongHerbert Lau, Hong KongCecilia Chan Lai Wan, HKA.D. Hole, Hong KongRomeo Ocampo, ManilaYap Kioe Sheng, BangkokKoto Kanno, BangkokSupak Ladavalaya, BangkokSukuman Tearprasut, BangkokDarrundono, JakartaMohamed Nuch, JakartaI. Made Sukadana, DenpasarPutu Darta, SanurQiu Jiang, VancouverFinally, I would like to extend a special and most gratefulacknowledgement to Marnie Tamaki and Barbara Bristol fortheir unconditional and ever-present support throughout thisventure.1. INTRODUCTION^ 1CHAPTER 1INTRODUCTION1.1. PROBLEM STATEMENTThe profession of architecture has been increasingly plaguedby doubts about its role, both in society as a whole andwithin the industry specifically. By all appearances, therole of the architect, particularly in Westernindustrialized culture, is eroding. While they have tendedto view themselves as stewards of the built environment, thevolume of construction actually designed by architects seemsto be diminishing. This fact, in and of itself, does not"necessarily mean that the society does not valuearchitecture. It may also mean that architects no longerpersonify architecture." (Baniassad, 1988).This statement suggests that there may be a serious mismatchbetween that which society needs from the architect and thatwhich the architect is able or willing to deliver. In thissense, architects can be seen to be abdicating their broaderresponsibilities to society in favour of the narrowerresponsibilities to their craft and profession.^Certainlythere has been ample evidence that society is dissatisfiedwith the architecture that is produced in the name of theart. It is also true that those architects that continue toview their work as monuments to history, will have some ofthe grim realities of the present elude them.In 1987, the International Year of Shelter for the Homeless,we were shown the relentlessness of this grim reality - areality that is no longer confined to the Third World. The1. INTRODUCTION^ 2Royal Architectural Institute of Canada (RAIC), at itsannual conference that year, recognized first that it was an"intolerable and unacceptable situation" of crisisproportions and second that it was a problem to whicharchitects should address their talents and energy, both inthe developing world and in Canada. It was at thisconference that we began to see an institutional shift inthe perception of the role of architects in society and ofthe responsibility of the profession to society. Oneexample of that shift was the RAIC-sponsored project inColombia called Construyamos. This project gave someindication of the possible roles that architects might playin self-help housing and of the need for the training ofpara-professionals.The RAIC, with its continuing involvement in the self-helpmovement in Colombia through Construyamos, and its Inquiryon the Role of Architecture, has expressed a clear interestin the need for the exploration of alternative roles for thedesign professional. The American Institute of Architects(AIA), too, with its Vision 2000 document is examining thefuture role of architecture in society. Such investigationsbegin to address the broader responsibilities of architectsto society's basic needs.Currently these basic needs are being met, in much of theworld, without the aid of architects at all. Within thecontext of developing nations, self-help housing has oftenbecome the only alternative for the bottom quintile ofsociety to gain any kind of shelter at all. Governments,strapped for cash, are ill-equipped to provide the capitalrequired to meet the exploding needs of the urban poor. Theexpertise of design professionals has tended to be of littlevalue in the informal sector of housing. Without money andwithout technical support, the urban poor have fended forthemselves with debilitating effects, both on their own1. INTRODUCTION^ 3health and on the well-being of the urban fabric as a whole.In this activity, it is possible for the architect to be oneof the agents of change, "a party to the process for selfinduced improvement in the overall quality of the life ofpeople he strives to serve."(Dawes, 1987)Over the last twenty years, much has been written oncommunity-initiated schemes and the bottom-up approach tothe provision of housing. Very little of the literature,though, covers the role of design professionals in thisprocess. This observation raises questions about that role.If it has not been covered in the literature, does thatindicate that architects have no role in this growing areaof housing supply? If there is a role, is it simply poorlydefined or do architects feel no particular responsibilityto address the issue? Is it a problem with which designprofessionals should be involved at all?It is argued here that the design professional has aresponsibility of involvement in the provision of the basicneed for shelter. This paper then reviews some of theavailable options for the delivery of housing that have beenexercised by communities and professionals in othercircumstances. These examples demonstrate how designprofessionals have been addressing their responsibilities.From this, a better understanding of the role thatarchitects can and do play in housing and communitydevelopment can be created. Out of this understanding it ispossible to see Canadian practice from a differentperspective out of which an alternative to Canadian practicecan be outlined. Such an alternative is intended to providea means by which architects can become 'a party to theprocess' and more effectively serve their community withinthe context of responsible action.1. INTRODUCTION^ 41.2. HYPOTHESISThis paper will examine the following ideas:.1) that the profession of architecture, as a resultof its history, has become progressively morelimited in its scope and therefore in its serviceto the community..2) that there is a personal and professionalobligation on the part of architects to actresponsibly in addressing the basic human need forshelter..3) that work is being undertaken to meet theseresponsibilities in the Third World and that thereis a relationship between this work and that whichhas been or could be undertaken in the FirstWorld..4) that changes to the way in which both architectsand society view the profession can betteraccommodate these relationships andresponsibilities.1.3. METHODThe methodology of the research has been divided into threeparts: literature review, field study, and evaluation..1) Literature review covered:a) the history of the profession.b) professional ethics and social responsibility.c)^the tradition of self-help in housing1. INTRODUCTION^ 5d) other housing alternatives - sites and services,'builders yards', squatting.e) paraprofessionals in the field.f) the existing housing process in Thailand,Indonesia and Canada.g) training programs..2) Field StudyThis portion of the research involved travelling to Beijing,Shanghai, Nanjing, Hong Kong, Manila, Bangkok, Jakarta,Denpasar, Pengastulan, and Mexico City between 1989 and1991. The field study involved:a) interviews with: professionals involved,paraprofessionals, students and faculty participants.The interviews were to determine: the level ofcommunity participation, the level of professionalparticipation, the organization management &implementation of self-help, and the trainingrequirements for field work.b) site visits to each project to describe: the natureof the project, the community motivation andparticipation, the support services provided toparticipants, the current state of the project, andthe involvement of the design professional..3) Analysis of dataThis portion of the work involved the development of acommon thread between the historical information and thefield study.1. INTRODUCTION^ 6.4) Synthesis/EvaluationFrom this information recommendations have been developedfor:a) the practice of architecture in this fieldb) the additional training requirements forarchitects entering this field.c)^the applicability to architectural practice withinCanada.1.4. ORGANIZATION OF THE PAPERThe paper is divided into nine chapters and three parts:Chapter 1 -^Introduction: sets the parameters of thework to follow and presents the questions tobe addressed.PART I -^CONTEXTChapter 2 -^The Architect in Practice: describes thetradition out of which alternatives can beevaluated.Chapter 3 -^The Role of Architecture: sets the ethicalcontext from which these examples are meantto be viewed and considers the question ofprofessional responsibilities to society.1. INTRODUCTION^ 7Chapter 4 -^Self Help and Advocacy: sets the historicalcontext of housing delivery and therelationship between design professionals andhousing for the poor.PART II -^ARCHITECTURE AND DEVELOPMENTChapter 5 -^Government: the role of the designprofessional in government organizations.Chapter 6 -^Educational Institutions: the role of designprofessionals in the training of students andin the use of students in communitydevelopment.Chapter 7 -^Non-governmental Organizations (NGOs): therole of design professionals in assistingNGOs in community development.PART III -^A CHANGING ROLEChapter 8 -^Canada: comparative examples of workundertaken in Canada.Chapter 9 -^Conclusions: how can we achieve what needsto be done?PART I^ CONTEXT^ 8PART I"The machinery of Society, profoundly out of gear,oscillates between an amelioration, of historicalimportance, and a catastrophe.The primordial instinct of every human being is toassure himself of a shelter. The various classes ofworkers in society to-day no longer have dwellingsadapted to their needs; neither the artizan nor theintellectual.It is a question of building which is at the root ofthe social unrest of to-day: architecture orrevolution." (Le Corbusier, [19601:14)These words, written in 1923, raised a number of issues withwhich the profession has been struggling since. Among themare the relationship between architecture and dwelling, andthe role of architecture in motivating behaviour in society.In presenting a choice between architecture and revolution,Le Corbusier seemed to be suggesting that if we choose thepath of architecture - which is to say, new architecture -we can avoid revolution - a revolution that would beignited, in part, by substandard housing.The anticipated revolution failed to materialize. It isdoubtful that architecture could claim any credit foraverting that predicted event. However, the issues that LeCorbusier raised would not go away. Architects, before 1923and since, have sought to better define the relationshipbetween society and their profession. What is thatrelationship? What has it been and what could it be? Isthere an alternative to be found in the profession thatcould allow it to take on a more fulfilling role in society?Part I of this paper considers that relationship first byreviewing the foundation out of which any options must bePART I^ CONTEXT^ 9derived. Before we can look at alternatives to traditionalarchitectural practice, it is important to provide areference point. What is traditional practice?Following from that description, another series of questionsbecome apparent. What would motivate the architecturalprofession to seek alternatives to traditional practice?What is wrong with the way we practice architecture now?For those that might accept that there is something wrong,there is still the question of the context for change. Inother words, even if I see the need for some changes inprofessional practice, that may not motivate me to seekalternatives, or, even if it did, why this direction insteadof that? Chapter 3 takes up some of these questions ofmotive.If we are suitably motivated to seek alternatives, it is notnecessary that we create a completely new form of practice.Many people have been practicing architecture in a way thatrecognizes and responds to shelter inadequacies. The fourthchapter describes briefly this alternative tradition.PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^10CHAPTER 2THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE"With the exception of engineering, architecture ismore fully involved with technocratic and corporateelites than other professions, which creates unusualdifficulties. One is ethical; a worthwhile objectivein any profession is that it provides service to allclients, not just to the very rich and powerful. Asecond difficulty of its dependence on elites in theprivate sector is that architecture enjoys few of thelegal and monopolistic protections accorded, forexample, the health professions, which are closelybound to public and quasi-public sectors. (Blau,1984:134)The difficulty that design professionals, and, inparticular, architects have had in responding to the needsof communities is that their alliance has traditionally beenwith society's elites. For the architect, breaking throughthe barrier of either self-perceived or community-perceivedisolation from the populace is difficult. That barrierexists, in part, as a result of our understanding of what itis that architects do and what it is we, as a society, thinkthey do. It is a barrier that has developed out of thenature of the profession, both historically and since thedevelopment of the modern incarnation of the architecturalprofession.2.1 HISTORICALThe difficulties described by Blau above are hardly recentmanifestations for the profession. The concept of servicePART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^11to society as well as the relative lack of monopolisticprotection were issues that arose with the Renaissance, ifnot before. The practice of architecture has been marked bya continuing shift between theory and practice, between artand craft. At different stages of history one side will bemore emphasized than the other and as a result builders,patrons as well as architects themselves will define theintellectual rigour of architecture in ways that reflect theprevailing convictions.With the shift in the use of materials from wood, mud, andbrick to stone there was a new responsibility on the part ofbuilders. The skills required were unprecedented and morehighly specialized (Kostof, 1977:4). But, in addition tothe skills of technique, there was another importantresponsibility that the first architects had to societiesthat had begun to shift from nomadic to a more settled,agrarian-based culture. Permanent homes had to be designedand built for deities. Who, though, would presume to knowwhat it was that the gods would find amenable? In manyancient cultures the only direct conduit to the gods was theking. It was the king, then, that often took credit for thedesign of temples, regardless of who might have actuallyprepared and directed the work. The relationship, though,between the architect and the knowledge of the sacred wasimportant.This relationship was more explicitly delineated in ancientEgyptian society. Here state architects had to consultarchival information regarding the design of temples andpublic buildings in order to meet the divinely inspiredinstructions written by the prophets and the king. Thatthese writings were made available to architects meant thatthey were tied closely to the secrets of the religion andhad been educated in the interpretation of its sacreddocuments. This placed them in the company of kings and thePART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^12priesthood and, therefore, in a position of great power. Itaffiliated the architect with vision (in his understandingof the domestic needs of the gods), science (in hisunderstanding of the structure and materials of building)and with crafts (in his understanding of the way in whichmaterials come together). Each of these areas wasassociated with a deity. The Egyptian "House of Books" wasassociated with Seshat, science with Thot and Ptah withcrafts. These three gods formed,". . . a constellation that neatly scans the totalscope of architecture, from pure theory on the onehand to the practical knowhow of construction onthe other." (Kostof, 1977:6)Professionally designated as the 'master builder' or'overseer of works', the architect was involved witharchitectural design theory (in his manipulation ofgeometry), with drawings (as instructions to labour) andwith supervision of construction. Although there is littleknown of the level of supervision by the architect on thebuilding site, or of the extent of the instructionsdelivered to the site by way of drawings and details, onecan assume, from his elevated position in society, that thearchitect had little to do, either in education or inpractice, with the hundreds of labourers engaged on aproject.For the Greek architect, the designation architekton meant'master-carpenter' rather than 'master-designer', adistinction that suggested the architect's educationalbackground in the building crafts and in the supervision ofthe building projectl. Unlike the Egyptian architect, his1. In Statesman 259d, it is stated that the architect isnot a workman but the director of the work of others andthat he provides the knowledge but not the manual labour.Unlike other theoretical pursuits, though, his work is notPART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^13Greek counterpart had little relationship with the occult(Kostof, 1977:25), although there was certainly atheoretical side to his education. In particular thisconcerned issues of ornamentation, proportion and theproperties of the Orders.With less emphasis on the occult, the Greek architect wasemployed more broadly. Little distinction was made betweenengineering, architecture and city planning, so thearchitect was typically involved in all three areas. Hecould work as a consultant in receiving private commissions,as a salaried architect for the city or in an electedposition as a state architect. In his capacity as aconsultant, he would often work on private homes for thewealthy, although these kinds of commissions did not appearuntil the Hellenistic period (Coulton, 1977:17).The required versatility of the architect was cause forcomment by Pythius in his Commentaries. As recorded byVitruvius, Pythius "proposed that architects should showproficiency in 'all the arts and sciences' in contrast topractitioners of other professions who 'bring a singlesubject to the highest perfection'" (Kostof, 1977a:17)Vitruvius expanded on those generalist sentiments some fourhundred years later in 27 B.C.:"He should be a man of letters, a skilfuldraughtsman, a mathematician, familiar withhistorical studies, a diligent student ofphilosophy, acquainted with music; not ignorant ofmedicine, learned in the responses ofjurisconsults, familiar with astronomy andastronomical calculations." (1.1.3.)done when "he has delivered a verdict on the facts". Thearchitect "must give the appropriate directions to each ofthe workmen and see that they complete the work assigned."PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^14The Roman architect, too, worked in many fields. Vitruviussaw the profession as embracing "the whole artificialenvironment of man" (MacDonald, 1977:39). As a result thearchitect was involved in surveying, hydraulic engineering,and town planning as well as buildings.With the fall of the Roman Empire, the pendulum swung fromtheory to practice. There was a movement "from anintellectual pursuit that required a liberal education as abase, to an empirical skill that could be learned within therestricted compass of apprenticeship." (Kostof, 1977b:60)Because the 'master-builder' rose through the ranks of thebuilding trades, his social status was changed but he was,nonetheless, still engaged in similar pursuits and requireda theoretical grounding in geometry. Along with churchprograms, his commissions would include similar projects tothose of the Greeks and Romans, that is, "palaces, wealthyhomes, gardens, castles, military installations, and thedesign of cities." (Kostof, 1977b:76)In the fifteenth century, with the revival of Vitruvius andthe new writings of Alberti, the pendulum again swung backto a Liberal Arts theoretical basis for the profession.Instead of the empirical approach of the medieval masterbuilder, the architect again become the director of design.The architect, then, shifted away from a direct involvementin the building trades. This separation was deepened by"the introduction of a novel set of forms, based on theClassical remains" (Ettlinger, 1977:121). The master masonwas familiar with a more traditional architectural languagethat arose out of patterns developed from many generationsof experience in the field. Without the recourse to thesetraditional patterns, he was necessarily left to follow theinstructions of the architect.PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^15For Alberti this was as it should be. Architecture wasseparated from the crafts and "the architect was an artistwhose activity had nothing to do with that of a craftsman."(Wilkinson, 1977:125) His book On the Art of Building, isquite explicit on this distinction:". . . the carpenter is but an instrument in the handsof the architect. Him I consider the architect, who bysure and wonderful reason and method, knows both how todevise through his own mind and energy, and to realizeby construction, whatever can be most beautifullyfitted out for the noble needs of man . . ." (Alberti,[1988]:3)There resulted from this deliberate split accusations thatthe architect was no longer trained in technique andtherefore was nothing more than a dilettante. This is a nowfamiliar argument between the profession and the buildingtrades, each accusing the other of incompetence, either inunderstanding theory or in building practice.In addition to the development of this new distinctionbetween art and craft, Alberti saw architecture as centralto a civil society. "For him humanism was not simply booklearning or acquaintance with ancient monuments, but theapplication of all knowledge in the public interest."(Ettlinger, 1977:112) These two developments laid thefoundation for the modern profession. The practice of theprofession in history provided the basis for conflicts thatcontinue into the modern profession - the conflict betweenart and craft, between theory and practice and, inparticular, the conflict between specialization andgeneralization. The observation that Pythius made regardingthe distinction between architecture and other, morespecialized, professions is one that plagues the modernpractice.PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^162.2 PROFESSIONAL PRACTICEFollowing in the footsteps of Alberti and his efforts tolend an improved social status to the profession, thearchitects of 18th century England attempted to findsecurity and status in acting "as impartial agents midwaybetween client and builder." (Saint, 1983:58)In Laugier's Essai sur l'Architecture of 1753, the attemptwas made to derive from first principles the 'true' natureor the basis for architectural form. The engraving thatfronted this work indicated a fundamental change in theperception of architecture. As Vale points out, Laugier'sengraving,". . . shows no builder of the primitive hut but rathera figure representing the designer, with compasses inhand, who is to transpose the visual characteristics ofthe primitive wooden shelter into stone, andsubsequently the classical tradition. With thistransposition the divorce of the building from the useris begun . . ." (Vale, 1991:10)Further, Laugier's return to first principles in the searchfor rational form was an approach to be revisited with theadvent of the Modern Movement. It was here, though, thatarchitectural theory first brought forward the notion that"style, as something independent of the mode of building,could be talked about." (Bognar, 1989:16)The Industrial Revolution had effectively created a newpatron for the architect with the rise of the upper middleclass in trade and industry (Wilton-Ely, 1977:190). Intheir search for clients, however, they were faced withmounting competition from entrepreneurial 'design-build'services (Saint, 1983:60). Buffeted as he was from"engineers, surveyors, cabinetmakers and even house agents"(Saint, 1983:60), the architect needed to establish aPART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^17Figure 2.1Laugier's engraving(Source: Vale, 1991)PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^18distinct identity and improve his social status and separatehimself from the competition.In 1791 the Architects' Club was established in Britain.With a membership limited to members of the Royal Academy ofArts (formed in 1768) and selected others, the discussionsof this exclusive dinner club included professionalqualifications and fees (Wilton-Ely, 1977:192) - topics thattoday continue to occupy the interests of professionalinstitutes. In 1834 the Institute of British Architects wasfounded with a mandate to facilitate "the acquirement ofarchitectural knowledge, for the promotion of the differentbranches of science connected with it, and for establishingan uniformity and respectability of the practice of theprofession." (Wilton-Ely, 1977:193). The same incentivethat drove Alberti to seek a stronger differentiationbetween the architect and the craftsmen on the site, was nowmotivating British architects to seek respectability inprofessionalization.Aside from the promotion of architectural knowledge, twoissues consumed the interest of the Institute in these earlyyears - the relationship between the architect and thebuilding industry (particularly, one would assume, thedesign-build companies) and, related to that, professionalself-defence. With all these other parties involved in theconstruction industry staking a claim for the builtenvironment, the architect was left with Alberti'sincreasingly confining claim to 'art' as his domain ofexpertise2 . The territory that Alberti argued for was now2.^The rise of Romanticism and the new attitudes towardsthe creative act and 'Art' that arose with Goethe andSchiller and were keenly expressed in England by the likesof Blake and Wordsworth. This certainly helped to reinforcethe reverential attitude in architecture towards thecreative act and its product as the central dominion of thearchitect. See Saint on Goethe's Romantic misinterpretationPART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^19being thrust upon the profession as the only remainingterritory in the built environment over which the architectcould lay claim3 . Art, as a means of self-defence, did notleave the new professional with a strong argument againstthe shifting divisions of labour that developed out of theIndustrial Revolution. These changes in the labour forcewere, in part, a result of the population explosion inBritain that took place between 1800 and 1830. Urbanizationand the increase of population from 9 to 14 million in thespace of those thirty years, created a need for housing thatcalled for "far larger speculative ventures in urbandevelopment than had been connected with the leisurelyevolution of Georgian London, Bath, or Edinburgh." (Wilton-Ely, 1977:193) With this need, the nature of theconstruction process had to change. The master-craftsman,working on piece-work, was replaced by the generalcontractor with a team of craftsmen who would bidcompetitively for a job on a lump sum basis. With this,there was further reason for the architect's role to shiftaway from the site to the drawing board. Drawings becamethe medium of the legal contract between parties - thegeneral contractor, the client, and the architect. Theof the Gothic (Saint, 1983:19-23) and Mark Swenarton,Artisans and Architects on Goethe's influence on Ruskin andthe rise of the Arts & Crafts movement.3.^The sense in which the term 'Art' is used, though,changed. For Goethe and the Romantics that followed, "trueart was not (as classical theory held) a matter of formalbeauty so much as a matter of 'character', the expression inthe object of the God-given urge in man to 'find material inwhich to breathe his spirit'. Against neoclassical notionsof 'good taste', Goethe saw art as the expression of theprimitive . . ." (Swenarton, 1989:3) Abbe Laugier, althoughwith neoclassical intent, did, with the Romantics, favour"Nature as the ultimate source of authority" (Wilton-Ely,1977:190) leading to what Watkin called, "hut worship"(Watkin, 1977:2). See also, Rykwert, (1972:43-50) for adiscussion of the relationship between Laugier's approach toarchitecture and Rousseau's approach to human socialdevelopment.PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^20drawings and specifications as legal documents werereinforced by the declining "skill and initiative among thebuilding crafts through general contracting." (Wilton-Ely,1977:194) The client now needed some protection in thecourse of a contract that would assure him of getting whathe asked for. The growing reliance on drawings and thetechnique of architecture widened a rift between theprofessional architect and the 'artist' architect. Theapproach of the former gave the client better protectionfrom unscrupulous or unskilled builders, while the lattercould provide the client with only the ineffable.In the midst of these growing rifts, Pugin publishedContrasts in 1836. Seen in the context of combined shift onthe one hand from art to professionalism (or practice) andon the other the shift away from craft and the directconnections on the site to the drawing board, it is littlewonder that he embraced the Gothic as a model forarchitecture. While Pugin couched his argument in terms ofmorality and Catholic orthodoxy, one can see therelationship between his arguments and the need to return toa time of greater coherence between art and craft, as wellas a stronger relationship between architecture andreligion. For Pugin, Gothic architecture represented therevealed truth of the Catholic church. Further, he believedthat, "since Gothic architecture is divinely ordained it isnot marked by human imperfections but is an inescapablereality." (Watkin, 1977:19)With the quest for 'inescapable reality' architecturaltheory added yet another requirement in the definition ofarchitecture - a definition that could - like the definitionof health by doctors4 - only be determined or recognized by4.^See Ivan Illich, Medical Nemesis. He suggests that themedical profession is, as he puts it, "a radical monopoly"PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^21the professional. In addition to this harbinger of themodern movement's search for an architecture beyond style,Pugin also ushered in a new sense "of social responsibilityand active commitment to a philosophy of design" (Wilton-Ely, 1977:195). This new sense not only related theprofession itself to its responsibilities to society but itrelated design to morality and to a kind of architecturaldeterminism - that is, that good design can create goodpeople (see McLeod, 1971:9) This instilled in Pugin a senseof social responsibility that was to affect the moreconscientious architects of the nineteenth century (Wilton-Ely, 1977:195).The dissatisfaction with the growing separation between artand practice, and the need for an expression of therelationship between art and society was further developedby John Ruskin, William Morris, and the Arts and CraftsMovement. With the revolutions in Europe in 1848 coming hoton the heels of the first recession of the new industrialage, Ruskin felt bound to respond to the inequity he sawaround him. Like Pugin, Ruskin saw 'true' architecture as aChristian art and Gothic was the architecturalrepresentation of Christianity."[B]y combining the sense of the crisis of industrialsociety . . . with the notions of art that he hadinherited from German Romanticism, Ruskin forged thenotion of Gothic architecture 'as involving the libertyof the workman' . . ." (Swenarton, 1989:15)Ruskin, then, did not see architecture as an isolatedphenomenon, or an issue of style, but "as the record ofhuman activity or work,"; that is, as process (McLeod,that disables people from doing or making things on theirown, thus impinging on freedom and independence. Thismonopoly also "labels the handicapped as unfit and breedsever new categories of patients." (Illich, 1977:34, 35)Illich is echoing E.C. Hughes comments about theprofessional. See 3.1.PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^221971:43). In addition to recognizing the role of process inarchitecture, in his 1849 publication, The Seven Lamps ofArchitecture, he also put forward the popular notion"linking morality and the redeeming virtues of the nuclearfamily to the very details of domestic architecture"(Larson, 1983:66).With Morris, the emphasis changed from Christian morality toa more secular determinism: "that man will automaticallyproduce great work if he is given freedom and autonomy inits execution" (McLeod, 1971:43). Morris and his colleague,Philip Webb, were particularly taken by those aspects ofmedieval society5 that placed priority on the communal lifeof the village and the guild rather than on the abstractionsof philosophy and theory.By this time, the profession was moving closer toestablishing a registration procedure for architects. This,of course, implied significant changes in the training ofarchitects and equally substantial changes in therelationship between architects and builders. As acampaign, it was in direct conflict with the needrecognized by Pugin, Ruskin, and Morris that there must be acloser relationship between the architect and the process ofbuilding. As a result, although there were certainly manyin favour of a registration procedure - older professionalsin larger practices and younger practitioners who wanted tosee their qualifications recognized - there were manyagainst the concept. Among the most articulate of theseopponents was W. R. Lethaby, one of the leading proponentsof the Arts and Crafts Movement. He saw that the move5.^It should be noted that part of the interest inmedievalism was prompted by a profound mistrust ofmechanization. In this sense, those architects, like Ruskinand Morris, were seen as withdrawing from the challenges ofindustrialization. (Wilton-Ely, 1977:202)PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^23towards professionalism placed the architect in a positionthat was too far removed from the production of buildings.The fragmentation that began with Alberti was exacerbated bythe registration of professional architects. The intention,however, was similar - the establishment and publicrecognition of an elite that would act as arbiters of taste 6(another word that created considerable annoyance in theArts and Crafts Movement). The other intention was, withthe recognition of this status by society, to furtherentrench the position of architects against an increasingarray of design and building services. To this end, theRIBA began to lobby for registration in 1890. Registrationlegislation was delayed until 1931 in part because of theinability of the RIBA to take control of the profession(Saint, 1983:66)7 , but by the turn of the century the fightfor registration was all but over. The problems of theprofession, however, were not. If architects were to beregistered by a legislative act of the State, there would beimplications on the training of architects and on thedefining role of the architect. Legislation finallyformalized in the public's perception, the fundamentalquestions that arose with the Industrial Revolution: whatis it in the training of the architect or in the practice ofarchitecture that differentiates it from the engineer, theprofessional builders, or even cabinet makers? (see Saint,1983:60)6. As Gwendolyn Wright points out, in the United Statesduring this period, although architects continued to insistpublicly on the absence of class differences, they "lamentedthe crudity of aesthetic taste among the lower and middleclasses . . . Within a few years, the WAA [WesternAssociation of Architects] would also include 'lazy,uneducated workers' as part of the problem it faced intrying to keep 'the art divine'" (Wright, 1980:73-4)7. By the turn of the century only 10 percent of theprofession belonged to the organization. (Wilton-Ely,1977:202)PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^242.3. THE CURRENT PROFESSIONThe pending institutionalization of architecture preparedits proponents for new developments that came with the turnof the century. Engineering took on greater importance bothas a model of professionalism and as a basis for aestheticrationale. Architecture as a business became a moreprominent concern and the Acts and Bylaws that governed thenewly formed profession of architecture reflected this bias.2.3.1.^The Rise of EngineeringHistorically, engineering was not well differentiated fromarchitecture until the twentieth century and the scientificrevolution in technology. However, with the IndustrialRevolution there were many new opportunities for theexploration of these differences in bridge-building, infactories and warehouses and in new building types such asrailway stations, schools, hospitals and so on. It was withthe development of the railway from 1825 that theseopportunities were best realized in the design andconstruction of railway stations. Because there was noprecedent for this building type, there was a conflictbetween the cultural needs of the form and its moreutilitarian requirements. There was no form available "toexpress and articulate adequately the junction between thehead building and the train shed." (Frampton, 1980:33) BothSt. Pancras Station and Paddington Station in Londonreflected this problem. Brunel's engineering design of thelatter was poorly matched with "the rather rudimentarystation building" (Frampton, 1980:34) in front of the trainshed. Brunel's staff, indeed, was capable of handling mostarchitectural work. The reverse, however, could not besaid, since "few architects could boast of half hisconstructional capabilities." (Saint, 1983:60)PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^25These new forms captured not only the public's imaginationbut that of architects as well. With exhibition buildings,the engineer had none of the problems of the railwayterminus, "for where the issues of cultural context couldscarcely arise the engineer reigned supreme." (Frampton,1980:34) The displays of invention that marked such effortsas the Crystal Palace and Eiffel's tower in Paris becameicons of a new age - of design, of the division of labour,and of the Victorian sense of the dominion of science overnature.With the split between the cultural and technologicalcontext of built form, the division between engineering andarchitecture widened. The engineer's interest, from thepublic's perception, was seen to be structural safety, whilethe architect's interest was increasingly in the realm ofaesthetics or at least, style.With the rise of the Modern Movement by the turn of thecentury, the aesthetics of engineering took on an evengreater interest than was displayed in the works of Paxton,Eiffel or Brunel. Le Corbusier, Gropius, the Futurists allheld a fascination for the rationality of engineered design."Our engineers are healthy and virile, active anduseful, balanced and happy in their work. Ourarchitects are disillusioned and unemployed, boastfulor peevish. This is because there will soon be nothingmore for them to do. . . .Our engineers produce architecture, for they employ amathematical calculation which derives from naturallaw, and their works give us the feeling of HARMONY.The engineer therefore has his own aesthetic, for hemust, in making his calculations, qualify some of theterms of his equation; and it is here that tasteintervenes. Now, in handling a mathematical problem, aman is regarding it from a purely abstract point ofview, and in such a state, his taste must follow a sureand certain path. (Le Corbusier, [19701:18-9)PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^26This 'sure and certain path' marked the modernist search fora rationality in aesthetics that could place architecturebeyond style. It reflected also a shift towards ascientific basis for aesthetics which, in turn, placed agreater dependence on the engineer whose training andabilities were better suited to scientific rationalism thanthose of the architect. Yet, despite the fascination, or assome have put it, a fetishism with functionalism8 , thearchitect's role was becoming increasingly restricted. AsLarson pointed out,"Of the Vitruvian definition - architecture is thecombination of 'firmness, commodity and delight' - onlydelight was not claimed by credentialed or otherwiseexpert rivals. To concentrate on the aestheticdimension of building was therefore an inevitablestrategic choice." (Larson, 1983:72)The additional erosion of the power of architecture over thebuilt environment created an even more compelling need forthe professionalization of the architecture. 98. See Pecora, 1991. Deutsche makes the further pointthat the "functionalization of the city" politicizes spacewhile obscuring the identity of those who define its use.There is a political conflict, then, between "thetechnocratic definition of the city as the product ofexperts" and the attribution of meaning to space throughsocial processes. (Deutsche, 1991:159-60)9. In 1991 the Nova Scotia Association of Architects cameinto dispute with the Engineers Association overjurisdictional issues with regard to suggested changes tothe provincial act governing architecture. The NSAA wantedjurisdiction over buildings used by people but engineers,who are currently working on buildings designed for sometypes of human use found this encroached on their turf.What was questioned is the definition of 'building'. "TheEngineering Act refers to structures. The Architecture Actrefers to buildings. Engineers say they're synonymous. Butarchitects say structures are [merely] beams, floors, thingslike that . . ." (Jones, 1991) The architects claimed thatbecause they are trained to include "psychological,sociological and aesthetic considerations, which engineersPART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^272.3.2.^The Legitimation of ArchitectureProfessionalization demanded a definition of the role of thearchitect in society. If the profession was requesting amonopoly over a certain segment of society, the public had aright to know not only what this monopoly would do toprotect the public interest, undoubtedly it also would askwhy this monopoly should be granted to one group providing aservice rather than another. In other words, why shouldarchitects and not, say, engineers have that power. Thisforced the profession into defining its role in the same wayas the medical or engineering professions. These otherprofessions could lay claim to a specialized area ofknowledge to which architects could not. Because they arescientifically based areas of knowledge, both medicine andengineering can define the area of their specialization withsome rigour. Indeed, without growing levels ofspecialization, the practitioner in these fields would beunable to keep abreast of the growing layers of informationthat results from the cumulative growth in scientificknowledge. However, as Pythius pointed out some 2400 yearsago, architects are generalists, not specialists.Architecture, like law, is not so much a science-basedprofession as it is culture-based. As a result the means bywhich the professional domain can be defined will bedifferent and certainly less clear.Yet, with professionalization comes the requirement toaddress that fundamental question: What do architects dothat others in the building professions and trades do not?10are not there is justification in making such adistinction.10. The question is often answered by referring to thearchitect's association with aesthetics, a position thatAlberti encouraged. Ironically this was the very positionPART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^28The modern profession has not yet satisfactorily answeredit. Although we can say that there is a difference betweenarchitecture and structure, if we resort solely to thenotion that that difference is aesthetic, or qualitative,the public response is typically that such judgments are inthe eye of the beholder: that is, subjective and thereforehardly adequate as a defining characteristic to a professionthat would be given charge over a significant portion of thebuilt environment. It is a response that is shared by otherprofessionals and paraprofessionals in the buildingindustry. The architectural profession, in reaction tothis, was compelled to become, institutionally,progressively more defensive of its position and to attempt,in individual practice, to become more specialized. Viewedfrom an historical perspective, there is little to suggestthat either will meet with success.The defensive position, at the institutional level, has ledto the legislative act that governs the practice ofarchitecture - The Architects Act (see Appendix I) - todefine the profession by exclusion. In other words,architecture is defined in the Act by what others can orcannot do. Article 57 defines the "practice ofArchitecture" as someone who "is engaged in the planning orsupervision of the erection or alteration of buildings forpersons other than himself". There are, however exceptionsto this general definition. These exceptions make thedefinition specific. Section 58 of the Act in BritishColumbia indicates that engineers are not prevented by theAct from erecting buildings that are "usually designed orsupervised for these purposes by an engineer." It does notprevent individuals from designing their own houses orduplexes, or corporations from having 'qualified persons'claimed by the British architectural opponents toregistration. Since art could not be taught, how could itbe examined? (see McLeod, 1971:125; Saint, 1983:66)PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^29making plans, specifications for buildings to be occupied bythe corporation. It does not prevent anyone from designingapartment buildings containing less than five suites, hotelscontaining less than 11 rooms, commercial buildings under470 square metres, and so on. The definition of theprofessional jurisdiction for architects, then, has beenlimited by the Act to numbers. Why should eleven rooms bethe limit?" Or 470 square metres? While designers, whoremain on the outside, may argue to increase these limits,many simply go on and design what s/he pleases and wait forthe Institute to discover the infraction and thensuccessfully take legal action against the alleged offence.Consequently, if the Institute is to defend these apparentlyarbitrary numbers, it must put a significant amount of itsenergies towards policing.In addition to the increasingly defensive posture of theprofession towards its jurisdiction in the builtenvironment, increasing specialization within the buildingindustry as a whole has contributed to the further erosionof the professional jurisdiction. The division of labourwithin the construction industry has continued apace sincethe early 19th century. As buildings have increased intheir complexity, both programmatically and in constructiontechnique, there has been growth in these divisions oflabour. Gutman points out that both Robert Stern and RobertVenturi have "work completed in their offices [that] is11. These limits are related to aspects of the National andProvincial buildings codes that govern aspects of fire andstructural safety in relation to the size of buildings.Although the numbers that result from that relationship arenot entirely arbitrary, they imply that only those peoplewho are familiar with the code intent will be able tocompetently deal with that size of building. This would, inturn, suggest that only architects have that competence.Such is not the case. Indeed, architects are now oftenusing code experts (non-architects) as subconsultants,particularly on complex building programs.PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^30frequently limited to specialized services in design."(Gutman, 1988:39) Working drawings, specifications,construction management and even the interior spaceplanning, particularly of technical facilities, have beenleft to other experts. Gutman gives the example of theLewis Thomas Laboratories at Princeton in which Venturi wasthe "architect for the exterior of the building; [and]Thomas Payette, architect for the interior." (Gutman,1988:39) Even in less high-profile architectural offices,similar, if less extensive specialization occurs.Routinely, specifications are left to subconsultants, as isinterior design, compliance of the design to building codesand fire codes, as well as the administration of theconstruction contract.2.3.3^The New FormalismWith increasing specialization, it is not surprising thatVenturi commented predictively:"The architect's ever diminishing power and his growingineffectualness in shaping the whole environment canperhaps be reversed, ironically, by narrowing hisconcerns and concentrating on his own job. Perhapsthen relationships and power will take care ofthemselves." (Venturi, 1966:20)For Venturi, Stern and others that job was fundamentallyformalist in nature. With this statement he effectivelyabandoned the functionalism of the Modernists along withtheir social vision and claim to technical rationality.Staking a claim to formalism was safe from jurisdictionalassault, was highly marketable and well controlled.It was well controlled because its formalistic principleswere self-defining (in much the same way that sociologistsand critics as disparate as Hughes and Illich have indicatedthat the medical profession defines health and disease) andPART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^31ultimately self-referential. In the postmodern frameworkthe meaning in architecture is defined by the architect "inthe form of witty comment upon earlier conventions"(Ghirardo, 1991:10) This can also be extended to comment onsocial conditions or, as Venturi put it:"The architect who would accept his role as combiner ofsignificant old cliches - valid banalities - in newcontexts as his condition within a society that directsits best efforts, its big money, and its eleganttechnologies elsewhere, can ironically express in thisindirect way a true concern for society's invertedscale of values. (Venturi, 1966:52)In a response to this rather conciliatory approach to socialcomment, the Deconstructivist social commentary wascertainly more confrontational. For this more recent stageof formalism, "fragmentation, dispersion, decentering,schizophrenia, disturbance are the new objectives." (McLeod,1989:43) In addition, within the framework of thepoststructuralist linguistic theory, architecture is seen,as Eisenman describes it, as "independent discourse, free ofexternal values - classical or any other; that is, theintersection of the meaning-free, the arbitrary, and thetimeless in the artificial" (in McLeod, 1989:47) Thisformal hermeticism places architecture, finally, beyond thecontaminating reach of social processes, of history, or ofmeaning. It not only defies the functionalism of theModerns but also the allusive character of the Postmoderns.In this way control is complete. Even the "role of theideal client has now been subsumed by the architectsthemselves" (Crawford, 1991:43), a solipsistic stance withwhich the architectural literary hero, Howard Roark, wouldlikely feel quite comfortable.Excluded from this discussion is mass culture and theoverwhelming majority of buildings and the people who usethem. This closed conversation of the avant-garde hasPART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^32become progressively more theoretical. It is no accidentthat Michael Graves' drawings or his teapot design are seenas equally, if not more important than the buildingsthemselves.It is also no accident that Michael Graves is seen inadvertisements for Dexter shoes. This self-referentialformalism is also highly marketable. The "culture ofconsumption incorporated postmodernism's emphasis on surfaceand readable imagery as a useful form of packagingessentially identical structures into more compellingproducts, subsuming architectural style into a brand-namemarketing strategy." (Crawford, 1991:41) Graves' products,his signature, are highly marketable. In much the same wayas sports stars' names are associated with a variety ofsports products, so Graves' name is associated with highfashion, whether the product was designed by him or not.This made the Postmodern style very adaptable to themarketplace. In addition, because it was, effectively, 'thedecorated shed' (to use Venturi's term), it very quicklybecame "the style of choice for the cheapest and mostexpedient building types: motels, shopping malls, and fastfood restaurants" (Crawford, 1991:42) The division oflabour, to which Gutman referred, between exterior andinterior architecture was a natural outcome of this shiftinto formalism.Another outcome of Venturi's 'Gentle Manifesto' was theretreat by some professionals, the avant-garde, into"complex theoretical constructs that render architectureuntouchable by the demands of modern life" (Crawford,1991:42) It is here that the jurisdictional safety of theprofession is complete. It is safe from the corruptinginfluence of business and safe, as well, from the socio-political concerns of modern life. With such theoreticalconstructs, over which the cognoscenti of the professionPART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^33hold complete control, the architect can at the same time"signify both the exchange or commercial value of thearchitect's skills and the architect's ability to renounceall mere exchange value." (Pecora, 1991:46) By becomingcompletely autonomous, from both business and socialconcerns, architecture both "aestheticizes society" and"finally succeeds in making itself irrelevant" (Pecora,1991:48)2.4. THE BUSINESS OF ARCHITECTUREFor the great majority of practising architects, thesetheoretical options are unavailable in any meaningful sensesince architecture is also a business. As such theprofessional is providing a service for specified fees. Itis classified as "a producer service business, since thebulk of practice today provides services to producers ofcommodities" (Gutman, 1988:9). The services that theprofessional provides form part of the contractualobligations between the parties involved in the productionof a building but they also involve some of the broaderissues of development from urban design to feasibilitystudies.In order to survive as a practising professional, thearchitect must deal with four issues: getting the work,determining for whom s/he is working, determining the scopeof services and undertaking the work.2.4.1.^The MarketplaceGetting the work demands from the architect some ability inpromoting and marketing the firm. This endeavour places thearchitectural firm squarely in the same marketplace, usingPART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^34the same marketing tools, as anyone selling their servicesor goods. Some architects are still uncomfortable with theprospect of advertising the business side of their work toclients and the public. (Gutman, 1988:20) This discomfortled one marketing professional to observe that "architects'brochures are about as understated as anything created inthe universe . . . [they] have a secret competition to seewho can use the smallest type size on their business cards."(AIA, 1987:9)Although the Bylaws of the Architectural Institute ofBritish Columbia allows - as now do most, if not all,professional bodies - advertising by professionals, thereare limits placed on the way it can be presented. Fees, forexample, cannot be stated. 12 Until recently, the legalprofession faced the same prohibition. It was considered bythe governing bodies that advertising was fundamentallyunprofessional."To many architects being known as a business personmeans that clients will imagine they placeprofitability and self-interest ahead of concern forbuilding quality and the well-being of the client. Thelatter concerns are the hallmark of professionalism."(Gutman, 1988:20)Many of the larger firms in the United States and Canada arenow hiring, not as consultants but as full-time employees,marketing and promotional staff to prepare brochures, pressreleases, and advertising for the firm. Such efforts mayleave the public with some suspicion that the professional'spriorities place economic self-interest well ahead of thepublic interest. However, without some level of self-interest, a firm cannot survive. Although many architects12. Since 1972 such a prohibition was removed from the codeof ethics of the AIA through a consent decree with theDepartment of Justice. (from Gutman, 1988:75)PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^35react unfavourably, or with outright hostility, to thepresence of marketing personnel within the firm (Cuff,1991:69), the AIA has recognized, as has the AIBC with thepublication of its "As Others Should See Us" document, thatthe promotion of the firm is critical to its survival. Thisrelatively enthusiastic response on the part of the NorthAmerican regulatory bodies to the business needs of theprofession was not nearly so receptively received by theRIBA. Before 1979 "the RIBA Code of Professional Conductdid not allow architects to initiate direct approaches topotential clients." (Gutman, 1988:81)As architectural practice in North America becomes morehomogeneous in terms of training and its regulatoryenvironment (including licensing requirements), competitionfor work increases. Many larger firms now work at anational, even an international level. This is particularlytrue for those firms that are associated with commercialclients that operate at a national or international level.Those firms, then, with broader access to markets and withthe available cash flow to support marketing staff, willundoubtedly have a competitive edge on those local andregional firms pursuing the same work.Aside from these more immediate issues of survival, theissue of marketing raises a broader point concerning theactions of professionals. Andrew Saint gives the example ofthe British architect John Poulson who, after his bankruptcyand imprisonment in 1973, became a symbol of "certainobjectionable features in British business and politicsduring the 1960s". (Saint, 1983:138) One of the reasons forhis bankruptcy was his practice of presenting 'generousgifts' to those people in business and government that couldassist him in securing contracts for his firm. In otherwords, he "schemed, bullied, bribed and cajoled his way toobtaining the all-important contracts" (Saint, 1983:140).PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^36Poulson's corrupt and illegal behaviour, though, received aninteresting response from those architects in the RIBA withexperience in commercial and international practice."By the standards of international business, Poulsonhad done nothing exceptionally wicked, however inept ormisguided or greedy he might have been. Had not theaccident of financial failure prised open the can ofworms, none of these misdemeanours would have come tolight. In how many other matters of business, ofgovernment and of building might not similarderelictions have been hidden, simply by clevererorganization and accounting? (Saint, 1983:141)This stance seems reminiscent of the response of theRepublican public to Watergate. The error of Nixon and hisstaff was in their clumsiness of getting caught, not in thedeed itself.There is, of course, a fundamental difference betweenaggressive marketing and illegal acts, but whenprofessionals enter the sphere of influence controlled bybusiness, they are playing by the same rules - or lack ofthem - that govern business. An acute awareness of thatline between public interest and self-interest is arequirement of professionalism.2.4.2.^The ClientThe demand for architectural services has traditionally comefrom the wealthy and from institutions such as the church orthe government. Modern practice has depended on "a broadmiddle-and upper-middle-class support for high culture"(Cuff, 1991:53) but the bulk of its work comes not fromindividuals but from institutions; the traditional ones ofthe church and government, but most predominantly fromcorporations. Nearly 45% of fees come from commercialprojects (Gutman, 1988:119). As such, architects are moretypically dealing with agents of the client who are in turnPART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^37representing boards of directors or committees. The actualclient is obscured by bureaucratic organizational structure.The end user is represented only by program requirements.The dynamics of client organizations will affect thedevelopment and organizational structure of thearchitectural firm (see 2.4.4.) It will also affect thedesign process and product. Fitch argues, for example, thatthe isolation of the architect from the client, or moreparticularly, the end user has "precipitated the trendtoward more formal, abstract, and less humane design." (inCuff, 1991:55) The abstraction of postmodernism suited thistrend well.The spirit of entrepreneurial development affected thenature of the client group as well. By the 1970's, inaddition to the ability to advertise, architects,predominantly in the U.S., were beginning to follow in thepioneering footsteps of John Portman and becoming moredirectly involved in acting as their own developers. Insuch a capacity, now allowed within the framework of theStandards of Professional Practice of the AIA, as well aswithin the Bylaws of the registration bodies in Canadianarchitecture, the architect is now able to act as her ownclient. In such a capacity, difficulties can arise betweenthe role of the architect as a professional (with theinterests of the public good as a central concern) and as adeveloper (with the interests of profit and survival as abusiness as more central concerns). Sometimes theseseparate motives do not conflict, but when they do, theresolution to that conflict may tend to obscure the needsand the interests of the public.John Portman considers that his work,"increases value and makes developments successful, foronly the designer by 'weaving elements of sensoryappeal' into his projects can humanize the calculationsPART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^38of the speculator. Thus architecture and real estatework to mutual advantage and to the whole community'sbenefit." (Saint, 1983:153)On the other side, however,"his schemes confront the problems of urban renewal,his chosen field of combat, only indirectly. Heremains as a developer bound fast by profitability; hisgreat projects, so far as they have yet gone, serveonly the affluent middle classes and the corporationsthat rent his office and hotel space. Prosperity, bythe orthodox theory of capitalism, is to percolatedownwards throughout the social hierarchy as a resultof the jobs created by these developments. (Saint,1983:153-4)It could be readily argued that Portman's role indevelopment was not to build housing for the poor so thereshould be no reason why he should be called to task fordirecting his development attentions to the affluent middleclass. This is hardly an argument against architects actingas developers. Furthermore, as Saint and Gutman point out,the role of architect as developer is not a new one. It waspracticed by Adam and Nash in England and by Bulfinch andRichardson in the U.S. but, in the development of theprofessionalization of architecture in the latter half ofthe nineteenth century, the desire to distance theprofession from commerce and craft proved overwhelming. Thefact that the cycle has returned to a somewhat earlier modelof the profession should not be cause for concern. Yet, therationale that was presented in favour ofprofessionalization in the nineteenth century gave rise tothis separation between development and professionalpractice. The fact that the profession has returned to thismodel of the architect acting as his own client suggeststhat there were and are some problems with the argument forprofessionalization. On the other hand, as Richard Meierput it, in a more contemporary context:PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^39"I don't believe that one can adequately provideprofessional architectural services and also be afinancier or real-estate person. You're just spreadtoo thin. . . . It's a lame excuse to say that you haveto be a financier in order to be a good architect."(from Gutman, 1988:49)Each of these tasks - architect and developer - consume allof the available time of the individuals involved. JohnScott, the marketing specialist, echoed Meier's observationsin pointing out that "people running an architecturepractice probably can't run a development business at thesame time, and certainly not as a sideline." (AIA, 1987:8)Robert Steinberg remarked further that:"Architects and developers have fundamentally differentyardsticks . . . Most architects value permanence, aphilosophical imperative to leave something behind.The developer's yardstick is usually, simply, money; ifyou don't value (and have) money, you aren't adeveloper long. Consequently, it can be very difficultto be an outstanding developer and an outstandingarchitect." (AIA, 1987:19)In another arena, conflicts can arise when the architect isemployed by a developer to provide housing for a non-profitorganization. In British Columbia, for example, non-profithousing is subsidized , in part, by the Provincialgovernment. Schemes are submitted by non-profitorganizations, often working with developers. Thesesubmissions must include preliminary plans for thedevelopment, clear title or an option on the land, zoningapprovals for the proposed development and so on. Fororganizations with little or no money available, it is oftenquite impossible to prepare such a submission without adeveloper. Typically, then, a developer will approach thegroup with a property in place, with a development team,including an architect, and only the requirement for anPART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^40organization with whom he can associate in order to make theappropriate submission. In such a process the end user, themembers of the non-profit organization, are likely to haveonly minimal input in the design process. They will oftenget what they are given. In such instances the architect isemployed directly by the developer and is inclined to takehis/her instructions from that 'client'. There is, though,another client that the architect must recognize - thepeople that will be living in the building over the courseof its useful life. When conflict arises between the clientwho pays and the client who must live with the decisionsmade, the architect will base his/her decisions on therecognition of the architect's role as a profession or abusiness. Again, in most instances, these roles may notconflict, but where they do, the architect must decide whichrole takes priority.132.4.3.^Scope of ServicesThere are many roles that the professional can play in thebuilt environment. The design of buildings is only one ofthem. The modern tradition of architecture - that is, sincethe early nineteenth century - evolved out of a need for anintermediary between the Building Contractor and the Client.In this role, the architect had to be conversant with thetechnical aspects of building, construction law,construction management as well as a command of the toolsthat can translate the client's needs into something thatcan be built and used. As this intermediary role wasdeveloping, the architect often took on a number of rolesthat have since been delegated to other consultants andspecialists. In England, these tasks included: "arrangingleases, assessing rents, measuring property, taking out13. How professionals make these decisions will beexplained further in Chapter 3.PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^41quantities and so forth." (Saint, 1983:58) In addition,particularly in the early part of the nineteenth century,architects often had interests in contracting companies andmaterials suppliers (MacLeod, 1971:123). In the UnitedStates during the same period, architects, as a result oforganizational differences in the construction industry,were often more involved in construction management.General contractors had not developed to the same extent asthey had in Britain so the architect was left with theresponsibility of supervision separate contracts for eachtrade. (Saint, 1983:73)In contemporary practice, much of this broader scope ofservices has been either delegated to other consultants orhas been deemed as unprofessional conduct by theregistration bodies governing the profession. A review ofthe traditional scope of services performed by the architect(Appendix A) indicates not only an expected focus on design,but a facility with:- coordination of subconsultants- budget review- review and compliance with all applicable codes- coordination of data- preparation of contract documents- monitoring and interpretation of contracts- review of contractor's claims for payment- review of warranties- client consultation- agency consultationIn addition to these basic services, the architect may beexpected to provide or supervise the provision of additionalservices such as:PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^42- facility programming- life cycle costing- economic feasibility studies- marketing studies- environmental and energy studies- project management- building diagnostics- post-occupancy evaluations- project financing- interior design- project promotion- fine arts- environmental monitoring- urban design- urban and regional planning- policy development- trainingThis range of services is still quite broad despite thereduction of services in some areas over the past 150 years.The return of some architects to the former role ofdeveloper/architect has added a dimension of financial andmanagement capabilities to this inventory ofresponsibilities. In general, though, those skills stillinvolve the architect's ability in design, technology, andmanagement (of both information and people).2.4.4.^Office PracticeDepending on the level of responsibility and exposure toliability which the architect is prepared to accept, s/hewill engage in practice at one of several levels: salariedarchitect, sole proprietorship, partnership, joint venture,or corporation. The size of a firm will determine, in part,the kind and complexity of the work it will do and the wayPART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^43in which the creative process (and therefore the results ofthat process) is managed.More than 93% of architectural firms have fewer than 20employees (Gutman, 1988:115). The remaining 7% of large andvery large firms capture 56% of all revenues (Cuff,1991:47). While there is an obvious economic pressuretoward increasing the size of a firm to accommodate theneeds of the larger market afforded by commercial clients,size will have an impact on the organization of an office,the relationship that employees have to the design process,and on the product that results from this process.Skidmore, Owings and Merrill (SOM), a firm with nearly 1,600employees in London and five U.S. cities, provides the best-known example of the development of the large firm directedtoward the provision of service to the corporate client.SOM was formed in 1939 by two architects and an engineer.Their aims were broad in scope. Not only did they want togarner recognition for themselves and the profession, theywanted to gain the respect of this growing client group bydeveloping an office structure that could match theirclient's needs at a national level. Beyond that, they wereinterested in,"the influencing and alteration of the physicalcondition of society: 'We were not after jobs as such.We were after leverage in influence social andenvironmental conditions.' Beyond that was anotheraim, yet larger: 'To work, we must have volume. Anefficient set of master builders can eat up a lot ofwork. Volume meant power. We would try to changemen's minds". (Boyle, 1977:325-6)To accomplish these aims, SOM provided not only thetraditional design services of architecture and engineering,but the additional services of graphics, interior design,master planning, research, construction management and soPART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^44on. In this way their clients, generally national in scopethemselves, could come to one firm for a range of design andrelated services. The organization of the SON officesdemanded a division of labour and a hierarchical chain ofcommand that matched that of any national corporation. Inproviding such a broad range of design services, the firmwas following in the conceptual footsteps of Gropius,Morris, or, as Owings himself suggested, the Gothic master-builders. The difference between them, in part, was thatfor SOM "total design was conceived as a device of controlas much as of service" (Boyle, 1977:328) The more areas ofthe design process that the firm could control, the moreconsistent would be the product to the general aims of theoffice.Although larger firms can take on more complex tasks, whichwill tend to expand the opportunity for collective influence(Blau, 1984:34) it also reduces democratic control in favourof hierarchical decision-making. Running counter to thistendency for increasing control is the understanding thatarchitecture, like filmmaking, is more a collective art thanstrictly an individual one (see Cuff, 1991:56). There aremany organizations and individuals exercising some level ofcontrol over the process and the product. Despite theromanticized (and politicized) version of the creative actrepresented by Howard Roark in Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead,the architectural firm is influenced from all sides. Theresistance to such influence, through the organizationalstructure of the office will tend, in itself, to separatethe firm and the architect from many of the partiesinvolved, directly or indirectly, in the design - mostnotably, the public. The more the design process isrationalized, either by age or by organizational structure,the less likely is innovation to occur and the moreperfunctory is the decision-making. Such ossification "canPART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^45be expected to erode the collective exercise of voice."(Blau, 1984:30)2.5. THE PROFESSIONAL DILEMMAPatterns emerge from such a broad historical overview. Inthe long history of the profession, the emphasis has swungbetween theory and practice, between art and craft, betweenbusiness and profession. Even in contemporary practice allof these streams seem evident. From SOM and their approachto the organization of their business practice, to thetheoretical stance of Eisenman; from the formalism of Gravesto the design/build approach of the 'woodbutchers' of the1960s (exemplified by Blue Sky Design on Hornby Island inBritish Columbia), the range of design method andorganizational environment is widely available to thepractising architect. With such options available, whywould the architect choose alternatives to traditionalpractice?A reader's poll in Progressive Architecture indicated that"about half of all architects under the age of 50 haveconsidered leaving conventional practice for nontraditionalemployment" (Arcidi, 1990:60) The main reasons for theirdissatisfaction, after financial, were the qualitativeissues of control over one's work, opportunities foradvancement and personal satisfaction. Beyond that, at theinstitutional level, there are continuing problems that areintegral to the professionalization process.Increasing specialization since the Industrial Revolutionaffected the architect's access to work. Thatspecialization has been continuing with the increasingcomplexity of buildings. While it is an appropriatePART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^46reaction in science-based professions, architecture has hadsome difficulty in responding to this requirement of thebuilding industry. The profession had either moved towardthe division of labour in large firms emulating traditionalhierarchical corporate structure (the stance of SOM) or inspecializing in the formal aspects of architecture (thestance of Graves or Venturi). With the former, there is atendency to bureaucratize the design process, thus limitingcreative response. With the latter, there is a tendency toignore the social aspects of the profession by focussingentirely on the aesthetics - the only area left over whichthe architect exercises autonomous control.Given the nineteenth century argument againstprofessionalization, institutionally architects have notbeen able to address the growth of formalism in terms of thelegislative acts that govern architects. Instead they havemoved toward a greater focus on governing the businessaspects of the profession. The recent focus on issues ofadvertising, marketing, and the architect's involvement indevelopment are illustrations of the institutional interestin governing these business concerns. Within thatframework, however, there are many other professionals whoare competing for the same territory. As a result there hasbeen a growing tendency, for the institute, to attempt toprotect that area of professional interest from furthererosion. A consequence of that protectionism has beenincreased policing of the membership. While it is difficultto exercise control over those people on the outside(without resorting to expensive legal action), the institutecan make some headway in the public sphere by making surethat those members of the institute adhere scrupulously tothe regulations. Since the rationale for the existence ofthe legislative acts governing professions is ostensibly theprotection of the public from incompetent behaviour on thepart of the untrained and unregistered or the unscrupulousPART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^47behaviour of those who are registered, it is important thatthe institutional response to the practitioner meet theletter of the prevailing law. This prevailing law will tendto become progressively more exclusionary as otherspecialists further erode the area of practice governed byarchitects. Unfortunately, since it cannot legislate theaesthetic aspects of the profession - the only area overwhich the architect has actual or even publicly perceivedcontrol - the institutions have few options availableoutside of progressive exclusion.Early in this process of professionalization, Walter Gropiussensed this dilemma, as did Morris (in another context)before him. Like Nathaniel Owings of SOM, who professed aninterest in emulating the Gothic builders, both Gropius andMorris admired the spiritual unity, the sense of commonpurpose and the relationship of the designer to the craftand the site. Unlike Morris, though, Gropius was not aLuddite. He was not looking for the return to apreindustrial era. Rather, he found the modern industrialworld a source of inspiration (as did Le Corbusier and theFuturists). This inspiration resulted in the development ofthe Bauhaus as a centre of experimental training in design.Bauhaus training required "a broad, co-ordinating mind, notthe narrow specialist." (Gropius, [1962]:20) Further, hesaw the problems associated with formalism as well as thosewith business."Our conception of the basic unity of all design inrelation to life was in diametric opposition to that of'art for art's sake' and the much more dangerousphilosophy it sprang from, business as an end initself." (Gropius, [1962]:20)The intention of the Bauhaus was to establish a rationalbasis for design and to remove the distinction between thefine arts and applied arts or crafts. In all of this, thePART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^48focus was to be the spiritual and material needs ofhumankind. To accommodate that focus, students should betrained to work in teams. Collaboration was to be animportant hallmark not only for the Bauhaus but for thedevelopment, some 40 years later of The ArchitectsCollaborative."The architect of the future - if he wants to rise tothe top again - will be forced by the trend of eventsto draw closer once more to the building production.If he will build up a closely co-operating teamtogether with the engineer, the scientist and thebuilder, then design, construction and economy mayagain become an entity - a fusion of art, science andbusiness" (Gropius, [19621:74)Reminiscent of the Egyptian trinity of Seshat, Thot andPtah, Gropius saw the role of the architect as a coordinator"of all efforts in building up man's physical surroundings"(Gropius, [19621:76). But, following the example of theGothic, this coordination could not occur within theframework of the cult of the individual, but only throughteamwork.A fundamental difference between his approach to the Gothicand that of Morris, Ruskin or Pugin, was, aside from anacceptance of the machine, the complete secularization ofart. Where, for his predecessors, art could not bedisassociated from morality, religion or politics, forGropius the 'spiritual revolution' that he sought was inscientific rationalism. For Gropius and the other moderns:"Ethics . . . meant truth in the use of materials, notgeneral morality; social betterment was equated withhealthy living conditions, not political liberty;economics meant efficiency in production, not thewelfare of the individual in industrial society . .  "(Boyle, 1977:342)PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^49The modernists had an abiding concern for the role thatarchitecture played in society, but their belief inscientific rationalism as a response to social conditionswas clearly inadequate. Le Corbusier's statement at the endof Towards a New Architecture, "Architecture or Revolution.Revolution can be avoided." exemplified this belief in theability of architecture to determine society's behaviour andits future. In this sense, the modernists were not that farremoved from Pugin and Ruskin. For the postmodernists,however, that belief has been abandoned with Venturi'sadmonition that architects should just do their job andleave these other relationships to those people bettersuited to them.Concurrent with these shifts in architectural theory, thepractice of architecture has shifted steadily towardsbusiness. The onset of professionalism placed architecturesquarely in the business world with all of the logic of itsorganization and motivation. Like the business model andlike the formalist model of architecture, the new professionbecame self-referential. The concept of service to societycame to be service to the profession itself.". . . architects in modern America indeed came toterms with the facts of industry and commerce, buttypically at the cost of their ethical responsibilitiesas independent professionals. The ethics of theindividual architect were replaced by the ethics of thearchitectural office, and the more the architecturaloffice resembled businesses in general, the more didits ethics resemble those of the business world."(Boyle, 1977:342)Combined with the fundamentally commercial nature of theformalist stance, which, in itself rejected any sense ofresponsibility to social ideals, "the new profession ofarchitecture replaced the ideals of society with the idealsof the profession itself." (Boyle, 1977:334)PART I^2. THE TRADITION OF ARCHITECTURE^50In all of these different streams of architecture -business, theory, craft - there is a separation from societyand an increasing reduction in the relevance of architecturebeyond its usefulness as a marketing tool or as a personalstatement of individual artistry. The question that remainsunanswered is: 'what is built and for whom?' This raisesthe issue of the use towards which resources are put. It isan issue of both politics and ethics. Ignoring it, asVenturi suggests, "by narrowing his concerns andconcentrating on his own job" 14 does not answer thequestion, it only places it out of the range of thearchitect's influence. Cuff suggests that,"to ignore the social context within which buildingsare designed is counterproductive for all partiesinvolved, most assuredly for architects. By devaluingthe conditions that frame the creative process, aspectrum of constraints and opportunities areoverlooked and removed from the potential control ofthe architect." (Cuff, 1991:56)That social context involves an understanding of theresponsibilities that professionals have to society and howthey respond to those responsibilities.14. Taking quite another stance, Che Guevara speaking atthe UIA Congress in Havana in 1963 said: "Technology can beused to subjugate the people or it can be used to liberatethem . . . And whoever says that a technician of whateversort, be he an architect, doctor, engineer, scientist, etc.,needs solely to work with his instruments in his chosenspecialty, while his countrymen are starving or wearingthemselves out in the struggle, has de facto gone over tothe other side. He is not a political; he has taken apolitical decision, but one opposed to the movements forliberation . . ." (in Comerio & Protzen, 1982:4)PART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^51CHAPTER 3ARCHITECTURE AND RIGHT ACTION". . . you are not a profession that has distinguisheditself by your social and civic contributions to thecause of civil rights, and I am sure this does not cometo you as any shock. You are most distinguished byyour thunderous silence and your complete irrelevance.Whitney Young, Jr. (1968:47)There is an ethical environment in which all professionsoperate. In their decision-making process, professionalsare affected by events or conditions that are beyond theircontrol yet they must make responsible decisions. Thatresponsibility is integral to the concept ofprofessionalism. The awareness the conditions that affectdecisions and of the tools for making responsible decisionsis important to the professional.The architect functions in the arena of development - arather broad term that can refer to anything from anaddition to a house to the planning of cities. Theresponsibilities that the architect must carry result fromthe parameters that come with development. Doctors, forexample, are faced with other responsibilities and thediscipline that studies and refines them is bioethics. Inarchitecture, this field does not yet exist. However, theissues of ethics and development must be addressed byprofessionals. In so doing, a number of issues must beexamined: the role of architecture in society, theresponsibilities of the profession, the professional and thePART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^52person, the parameters of development, and the basic needsthat architectural expertise can address.3.1. THE ROLE OF ARCHITECTUREIn addressing the annual convention of the AIA in 1968,Whitney Young, Jr., then executive director of the UrbanLeague, presented the assembled professionals with achallenge. While the ghettoes of New Jersey, Detroit, Wattsand other cities across the United States were being setaflame, Mr. Young seemed to be suggesting to the architectsof America that their silence on these social issues of theurban environment was, or should be, a source of some shamefor professionals. The AIA, for its part, was not entirelysilent. There were some in its membership that were activein the streets of the cityl. The majority, though, inarchitectural circles were headed in quite anotherdirection.In the midst of the social revolution of the sixties, RobertVenturi issued his 'Gentle Manifesto'2. Certainly this wasnot the first time that an architect has paused to reflect1. The AIA supported the development of ARCH, the firstcommunity design centre, in Harlem in 1964 not only withmoney but with institutional support that enabled ARCH toseek additional funding from foundations as well asgovernment. Their formal involvement in Community DesignCentres began only after the 1969 convention thatestablished the Task Force on Professional Responsibility toSociety.2. Venturi's Complexity and Contradiction in Architecturewas first published in 1966. His self-described 'gentlemanifesto' related entirely to design issues rather than,more typical of manifestos, social issues. As an address tothe severity of the Modern Movement, this book created theunderpinnings for the rise of Post-Modernism. See also2.3.3.PART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^53on the nature of architecture and its relationship tosociety. In this century alone, from Adolph Loos and hiscontentious opinions about ornament and crime, to themodernist search for a Platonic architecture that would takesociety beyond mere style, architects have been looking forthe architectural answer to society's salvation. What madeComplexity and Contradiction unusual in this litany ofmanifestos is that it ran in quite the opposite direction tothe temper of the times and yet, for such a modest exercise,it seemed to redirect, almost single-handedly, architecturaldesign for the next 20 years.Now, with the dissolution of Post-Modernism inpoststructuralist hermeticism (see McLeod, 1989), and withthe further fragmentation of the profession into divisiveroles in business or theory or academics, it is perhaps timefor further reflection on the role that the architecturalprofession can or should play in society. In North America,both the Royal Architectural Institute of Canada (RAIC) andthe AIA have initiated discussions, both from within andoutside the profession, on the role of the architect insociety, the former with its Inquiry into the Role of theArchitect and the latter with Vision 2000.Despite recent statistical evidence otherwise (Gutman,1988:3-8), architects would appear to be involved in anever-decreasing percentage of the built environment. Astheir professional role is narrowed by a growing army ofspecialists in all facets of this work, architects seem tobe relegated to the facades department of the corporatestructure. The marketability of formalism is hardly a newdevelopment, though, in architecture. In Britain, after1820, architects were often called upon by builders "to makeelevations as a selling point for the builder or to enforceconformity on behalf of the proprietor." (Saint, 1983:60)Such precedents, though, are hardly consoling to manyPART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^54professionals today - notwithstanding the stature thatGraves or Venturi have reached in such roles. It is stillnot a satisfying pursuit for the mythic image of the heroicindividual architect/artist battling the philistines of popculture and crass business interests.Mr. Young's reference to the irrelevance of the profession,no doubt, invoked a certain level of apprehension in thearchitects at the conference. But the fear of irrelevancecan be a powerful motivating force in generating change inthe profession. Opportunities can arise out of the searchfor change but it is entirely possible for these fears tolead to impotence or to the pursuit of short-sighted goals.Those firms that have not been shocked into the passiveresistance to change are now hiring marketing staff not onlyto sell the services of the firm but to read and analyzedemographic statistics in order to find those new marketniches for architectural services. Should we bespecializing in retirement housing? Or health care for theaging? What does the public want, anyway? What about smartbuildings? Or 'green' buildings? Can we get the jump on ourcompetition by specializing in one of these areas andmeeting the needs of new markets?With institutional inquiries by the AIA and the RAIC, someof the questions of practice can be answered through theinvestigation of market trends and polling. By means of aLou Harris survey in the spring of 1988, Vision 2000identified 27 social, technological, economic,environmental, political and professional trends afterpolling 201 people inside and outside the design industry.Predating the efforts by the AIA, the RAIC initiated in 1984a more introspective study. Their inquiry arose out of theomission of architecture from the 1983 Applebaum-HebertCommission on federal cultural policy. Out of thisPART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^55oversight a number of questions arose within the profession.Did the Commission not consider that architecture to be partof Canadian culture? Despite the fact that the federalgovernment is one of the major consumers of architecturalservices, did it not consider that there might be some needfor a federal policy regarding architecture? If theserepresentatives of the Canadian public found architecture aninvisible force or an irrelevant force, what must theCanadian public itself think of architecture and itspractitioners? Perhaps they don't think of architects atall. If that is the case, is architecture in danger ofbecoming completely marginalized? If so, that market nichefor which firms so avidly search may be diminishing evenmore quickly than the profession believed.These pragmatic concerns of survival as a business, asimportant as they are, must be seen within a context.Architects are not selling widgets for whatever the marketwill bear. They are providing a service to society. Whenthe profession considers the context within which it works,it considers goals in a different way than does the widgetmanufacturer. If society loses interest in widgets, themanufacturer either changes the product or goes out ofbusiness. Although these conditions also apply to thearchitectural profession, - and these RAIC and AIA inquiriesinto trends and changing roles are strong evidence of theapplication of such conditions - an additional and morefundamental consideration applies: the responsibility thatthe profession has to society. Because of theseresponsibilities or obligations, the goals of the professionas a whole are not like sales projections or the search fornew markets. They must be broader than that and they mustbe immutable.Professional organizations from law to library sciencedistinguish themselves from other vocations by the settingPART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^56out of codes of conduct and responsibility (see Gorlin,1987). As an example one immediately thinks of the icon ofprofessional declarations, the Hippocratic Oath (seeAppendix B), which enjoins the medical profession to aresponsibility to its apprentices and to society as a whole.This traditional oath is some 22 centuries old and, whilesome of its language might now be considered obsolete, itsbasic precepts have held up remarkably well. There are twoparts to the oath: the relationship between the apprenticeand the teacher followed by the ethical code which describesthe relationship between the professional and both hisclient and society as a whole. From this foundation one canbegin to judge specifics of ethical behaviour within theprofession. Outside, society as a whole can developexpectations of the profession. Out of this a moralheritage arises; that is, "the devotion of professionalskills to meeting the needs of client groups and,ultimately, to the common good." (Reeck, 1982:38) Does sucha moral heritage exist in architecture? Surely we wouldlike to believe it does. One expects that, at itsfoundation, this would be the case for any profession andthat this heritage and attendant obligations are thedistinguishing characteristics between a profession and acraft.Another distinguishing feature of professions, is one thatthe sociologist E.C. Hughes put forward as "guiltyknowledge"3 or knowledge that can be seen as dangerous inthe hands of people without the moral heritage ofprofessions. In addition,3.^Reeck gives the example of guilty knowledge: "Thesurgeon, for instance, has 'guilty knowledge', because hecan remove an organ from a living body . . . thepsychological therapist can shape the human mind . . .[Professionals] are ones whose decisions potentially haveenormous, even frightful, impact on other human beings andon the environment." (Reeck, 1982:17)PART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^57"they presume to tell society what is good andright for the individual and for society at largein some aspect of life. Indeed, they set the veryterms in which people may think about this aspectof life." (Hughes, 1958:79)Professionals have been commissioned by society to use thisknowledge to make decisions that have potentially dangerousand significant implications both for human beings and theirenvironment. They are,"exempted from the 'guilt' and . . . as anassurance of meriting such exemption, suchspecialists are expected to have a more rigorousethic, to be more client-oriented in the conductof services to the client, and to control theentry and training of novices so that theseconcerns about the responsible use of guiltyknowledge remain central in the practice of theoccupation. These are the occupationstraditionally known as the 'professions'."(Herrick, 1978:2)Society entrusts the professional with the formidableresponsibility of using this knowledge for the welfare ofsociety. In turn, "every profession is legitimated by thegood faith it keeps with the people it serves." (Smith &Churchill, 1986:85) Under those circumstances ethicsbecomes an imperative of professional tradition, not aluxury better suited to late-night reflection. Without aconstructive ethical standard, the professional can, andoccasionally does, lapse into exploitive behaviour in usinghis/her specialized knowledge.The depths of exploitive behaviour were based on twoconditions: the absence of a constructive ethical standardand the narrow definition of the professional as beingmerely technically competent. During the Second World War,the death camps exterminated millions,PART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^58  . . under the most rationally planned andcontrolled conditions. The goal was to exact thegreatest output of labor for the smallest input offood, clothing, and services. . . . even morepoignant than the sheer magnitude of the slaughteris the fact that professionals were largelyresponsible for the planning of the atrocity. Theagents of death were not simply Nazi thugs.Management professionals were involved through theI.G. Auschwitz Company, a subsidiary of the I.G.Farben Corporation. Medical professionalsexamined and classified prisoners, selecting thosefor work in particular occupations. They helpedto determine the maximum output obtainable at theleast expense. (Reeck, 1982:25-6)Architects, most notably Albert Speer, were alsoprofessionally involved in these atrocities. As Speerremarked, "For the commission to do a great building, Iwould have sold my soul like Faust." (Speer, 1971:62)Similarly, Mies van der Rohe who worked at both ends of thepolitical spectrum in his early career provoked the commentby Philip Johnson, "How apolitical can you get? If thedevil himself offered Mies a job he would take it." (Jencks,1973:40). Clearly, technical expertise is not a moral agenthere. Nor is artistry. This 'guilty' knowledge can bedirected towards enabling or exploiting society. It is onlywhen we develop and maintain our moral heritage throughprofessional ethics that this expertise can be used forenabling ends.The recognition of our moral heritage only begins to addressthe question of social responsibility of professionals. Ifwe agree that this heritage exists for architecture as itdoes in medicine, what are the implications for right actionwithin the profession? How do we define right action? Doesa common moral heritage exist for a profession, and, inparticular, for architecture?PART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^593.2 PROFESSIONAL RESPONSIBILITIESArchitecture is one of the most urgent needs ofman, for the house has always been theindispensable and first tool that he has forgedfor himself.Le Corbusier ([1970]:17)Perfection of tools, but confusion of aims arecharacteristic of our time.Einstein (in Gropius, 1968:4)In September 1990 a formal complaint was lodged with threeProvincial Associations of Professional Engineers by theenvironmental organization, Probe International. Thecomplaint was against B.C. Hydro International, LavalinInternational, Hydro-Quebec International, AcresInternational and SNC., Canadian consulting firms forming aconsortium know as CIPM Yangtze Joint Venture. Thisconsortium prepared the $14 million feasibility study of theThree Gorges Dam in central China. Probe accused theconsortium of "glossing over environmental concerns,ignoring significant costs and exaggerating the benefits ofthe project." (Farrow, 1990) Their criticism went on to saythat , " the consortium, by concluding that the Three GorgesDam is technically, environmentally and economicallyfeasible, has violated the professional engineering code ofethics and has been professionally negligent." (Farrow,1990) In their letter to the Association of ProfessionalEngineers governing each of these firms, Probe statedexplicitly that:". . . we believe our critique [Damming the ThreeGorges: What Dam Builders Don't Want You To Know]illustrates violations of the Code of Ethics, asamended August 1990 in the Engineers andGeoscientists Act of British Columbia [seeAppendix C], including: section 1(a) which states"He [the Engineer] will be realistic . . . in thePART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^60preparation of all estimates, reports, statementsand testimony;" section 1(b) which states "He willnot distort . . . facts in an attempt to justifyhis decisions or avoid his responsibilities;"section 2 which states "The engineer will haveproper regard for the safety, health and welfareof the public in the performance of hisprofessional duties. He will regard his duty tothe public safety and health as paramount;" andsection 2(d) which states "He will guard againstconditions which are dangerous or threatening tothe environment and he will seek to ensure thatall standards required by law for environmentalcontrol are met." All of these principles, webelieve, have been violated by the consortium inits conduct of the Three Gorges Water ControlProject Feasibility Study." (Probe, 1990)This action by Probe should give design professionals somepause for thought on the responsibilities that they havebeyond those directly related to their clients.Professionals make a bond with society. This bond isusually expressed in a declaration by the prospectivemember. Like the Hippocratic Oath, this declaration has anumber of common elements dealing with the designer'sresponsibility to his/her client, to the profession and tosociety at large. For example, Article 9 of the Bylaws ofthe Architectural Institute of British Columbia states:"Solemnly do I declare that having read andunderstood the Act of the Architectural Instituteof British Columbia, its Bylaws and Regulations,and having passed the examinations, I am eligiblefor membership. Further do I announce that I willuphold professional aims, and the art, and thescience, of architecture and thereby improve theenvironment. I also accept with obligation theneed to further my education as an architect. Ipromise now that my professional conduct as itconcerns the community, my work, and my fellowarchitects will be governed by the ethics and thetradition of this honourable and learnedprofession.(AIBC, 1990:4)PART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^61This oath must be taken by all prospective members of theprofession and it is administered by the provincial bodythat regulates those who may legitimately hold themselvesout to the public as "architects". In this way, the publichas some assurance that those people calling themselvesarchitects have met educational and professional standardsthat provide some protection of the public good. But whatcommitment does the professional make to the public, tosociety, through the oath?It makes only oblique references to the obligations of thearchitect to society. The only two references to the worldat large are: "improve the environment" and "professionalconduct as it concerns the community". In each of theseinstances those larger responsibilities are referred back tothe profession and its governing body. In other words, theoath does not suggest that we have an obligation to improvethe environment, only that we should uphold the professionalaims of architecture and, by doing so, one of the results ofthis action will be an improvement to the environment.Similarly, concern for the community is subsumed by theethics and tradition of the profession. In other words, ifthe architect follows the tradition of the profession, s/hewill fulfill this concern for the community. This traditionand ethical conduct, though, is entirely rooted in two basicareas: the relations between architects and thepresentation of technical competence to the public at large.The latter obligation is highlighted in the oath byreference to the obligation to further one's "education asan architect". To this end, the Provincial bodies governingthe practice of architecture regularly hold ProfessionalDevelopment courses that cover a variety of aspects ofpractice such as: technical details (the application ofvapour barriers and insulation, for example), jurisdictionalissues (zoning and building bylaws), management techniquesPART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^62(office practice, marketing), and legal issues (constructionlaw, liability). In British Columbia, the Oath is the onlyarea in which this particular obligation is registered.There is no further mention of it in either the Act or theBylaws. At the national level, the RAIC has recognized therequirement for continuing education."Conscientious effort with respect to continuingeducation, whatever the source, is a basic necessityfor every Architect. Keeping abreast of change, aswell as renewing knowledge gained earlier, is importantto the ability of an Architect to offer a viableservice to the public, and to do credit to hisprofession." (RAIC, 1977:3)This renewal of knowledge tends to focus on the technique ofpractice rather than the broader issues of theprofessional's relationship to society at large (exceptinsofar as it relates to issues of liability).Nowhere in the By-laws or the provincial Architect's Act isthere any direct reference to a professional's broaderobligations to society. Indeed if we look at Articles 30 -34 of the Bylaw, under the title "Professional Ethics" (seeAppendix D), - a place we might expect to see these broaderobligations outlined - we see reference only to rules foradvertising, actions that constitute conflict of interest,rules governing the competition for work between architectsand the professional conduct of architects. All of thesebylaws outline the way architects are to conduct themselvesin public, but, unlike the quoted Code of Ethics of theProfessional Engineers, it does not delineate thearchitect's obligations to the public. In the area of'conduct', for example, the clause states:"All Architects are expected to conduct their affairsin a competent and professional manner, and refrainfrom acts which would reflect unfavourably on theprofession as a whole." (AIBC, 1990:12)PART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^63The extent of competency remains undefined by the bylaws,but, aside from the legal definition concerning mentalfitness, competency may be taken here to mean a workingfamiliarity with current issues of technique (as describedabove) and as required by the Examining Board of theInstitute4 . "Professional manner" is likewise undefined,but can be taken to mean conduct that exhibits the trainingthat defines the professional; that is, those areas ofcompetence defined by the educational requirementsdelineated by the Canadian Architectural Certification Boardand as outlined by the requirements of the Examining Boardof the Provincial Institute. Of equal importance in thissentence, though, is the admonition to refrain from actsthat will reflect unfavourably on the profession. Again,the emphasis of conduct concern the actions of theprofessional in public, not the relationship of his/heractions to the public.The Bylaws of the Association of Professional Engineers andGeoscientists of the Province of British Columbia, bycomparison, state, as Probe indicated above:"The engineer will have proper regard for the safety,health and welfare of the public in the performance ofhis professional duties. He will regard his duty tothe public safety and health as paramount . . . He willseek opportunities to work for the advancement of thesafety, health and welfare of his community. (Section14.2, Code of Ethics)4.^The Examining Board reviews the Experience Record ofthe candidate for registration, along with the results ofthe professional examinations. All of these requirementsare focussed on areas of technical competence (see AppendixE) such as: Project analysis, Schematic Designs, DesignDevelopment, Construction Documents, Administration ofConstruction Contracts, Cost Planning Control, Coordinationof Consultants, Tender Award, Office Administration. (seeAIBC "Architect in Training Program: Outline of PerformanceRequirements", 1983.PART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^64Here the professional's responsibilities to the public aremade explicit. These responsibilities are seen to beoverriding. While the engineer will use technical expertiseto meet those responsibilities to the public, it is clearthat that expertise is in service to the public. At nopoint do the Bylaws of the Architectural Institute makeexplicit this overriding duty. The references, instead,typically refer to the architect's decorum in public and thecompetent execution of his/her technical skills.Does society have the right to expect any more thantechnical competence and public decorum from a profession?When a legislative act is passed that creates a profession,what does it expect in return?Through professional associations, society can expectcertain things from members of that profession5. The leastof these expectations involves technical competence. Whileprofessional organizations often begin with broad aimsconcerning obligations to society and the protection of thepublic good, these aims are expressed by the professionspecifically through technical expertise. This expertise isdirected first towards the paying client, and then towardssociety at large. When a member of the design profession isaccused of professional negligence, generally, s/he isconsidered to have been responsible for a technical failurein the building's performance. These failures range fromimproper flashing details to building failure.5.^What society can or should expect from the professionalis addressed in 2.4. The examples that follow in Chapters 4- 8 also give some indication of the extent of thoseexpectations. However, as Blau points out, "the professioncontinues to resist a definition of its boundaries andinternal specialization." (Blau, 1984:7)PART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^65The Probe action implies that there is far more toprofessional obligations and therefore to professionalnegligence than technical expertise and buildingperformance. Their argument strongly suggests a largerresponsibility than fealty to one's client and technicalcompetence. By implication, it proposes that theresponsibility the design professional owes to society musttake priority over the responsibility to the specificclient. In this they agree with the Association ofProfessional Engineers in considering that the engineer must"regard his duty to the public safety and health asparamount." This raises questions about the nature of thedesign professional's responsibilities and towards whom theyare directed. What are these responsibilities?In considering this question, the role of the designprofessional in society cannot be seen in isolation. We areall human beings acting in the world. Our actions asprofessionals are also actions as human beings. Technicalcompetence, then, as a professional is only part of theresponsibility that we assume in and towards society. Thereare other, broader, responsibilities. In all, theseprofessional responsibilities might be divided into fourgeneral areas:1. The responsibilities that arise out of birth.2. The responsibilities that arise out of knowledge.3. The responsibilities that arise from theprofession.4. The responsibilities to one's self.6. McLachlin points out further that where a conflictarises between the public concern and the specific concernsof the paying client, the engineer is expected by this oathto discontinue any course of action that is harmful to theenvironment. (McLachlin & Wallace, 1987:38)PART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^66Of these, only the third is covered by the traditionalexpectations of the profession. What are these otherresponsibilities? What is the relationship between them, ifany? How does one fulfill these obligations?3.3. BIRTHIf you want to make use of the advantages ofcivilization, but are not prepared to concernyourself with upholding civilization - you aredone.Ortega (1957:88)Some obligations are thrust upon us. By the accident ofbirth, many professionals were born in and/or work in theindustrialized nations, countries of great wealth. Thiswealth was acquired, typically, at some considerable expenseto the physical and social environment. In addition tohaving such enormous resources at our disposal, we, asdesign professionals, often have the power to influence howthese resources are utilized. Available resources can beused efficiently or wastefully. They can be used to advancethe welfare of society or to impede it. Because the flow ofthese resources and the influence of power can be felttransnationally, these obligations, too, flow beyondborders.Such statements are easily said but poorly understood,particularly in the face of the mystery of birth. Theaccident of birth leaves some children beginning their livespicking through piles of garbage in the outskirts of Manila,selling trinkets in the streets of Jakarta or their bodiesin Bangkok. Some children are born, through no fault oftheir own, into injustice. Others are born, through noPART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^67divine right, into privilege. The privileged accept as'rights' - that is, society's responsibility to individuals- those opportunities for which others often must fight anddie. While we are not responsible for having been born intosuch privilege, do we, as a result of such serendipity, havethe fundamental responsibility as human beings to use theadvantages and opportunities afforded us to resolve thesepersistent inequities? I believe we do.As members of a world community, we, as individuals,communities and nations, have obligations to the social andphysical environment that we all share. As members of theresource-rich minority in that world community, theobligations towards distributive justice should rest withthose of us who have rather than those who have not. Insimple terms, those of us who have been taking out of thecollection plate, have an obligation to put something backin.There are some contentious implications in these statements.Among them are: the notion that the possession of wealthand resources carries with it an ethical imperative; theconclusion that we have been taking out of a "collectionplate"; and the concept of equity as socially meaningful.These contentious implications must be addressed through aseries of steps. A relationship must be established betweeninequity and the use of resources. This inequity must beseen to exist for reasons other than simply laziness,unfortunate geographic or climatic choices on the part ofthe poor (3.3.1). Acting justly will be argued as thefulfillment of basic needs (3.3.2). These needs, in turn,should be seen as human rights (3.3.3). The recognition ofthese human rights gives rise to the concept of distributivejustice (3.3.4). With the acknowledgment of distributivejustice and these rights comes a basic responsibilityPART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^68(3.3.5). When a claim for rights is made, a correspondingduty is implied. Among those upon whom this duty falls arethose who have the resources to distribute.3.3.1^InequityDoes inequity exist? At first glance the question wouldappear to be ridiculous or, at best rhetorical. The word,though, presumes injustice or unfairness. It is with thisimplication that the rationale for the status quo arises.When reference is made to the inordinate command ofresources that is granted to the 26 percent of thepopulation in the First World - 80 percent of the world'scommercial energy, 85 percent of the world's supply of paperand so on (WCED, 1987:33) - it is entirely possible toconclude that these figures do not represent inequity butrather the rightful rewards of hard work, ofindustrialization and capitalism. In such a scenario, thepoor of the world - the other 74 percent of the population -can be seen as simply unlucky enough to have been born in alocation that does not have as healthy a share of theworld's raw resources in its waters or its soil. The poormay also have their condition characterized by "their lackof educated personnel, entrepreneurial spirit, expertise andcapital, and [by] corruption." (Trainer, 1985:114) Theseconditions can be seen as self-inflicted. This argumentwould suggest that the status of the poor is no more unfairthan is the self-inflicted sickness of the habitual smoker.Does this characterization stand up to examination? Thereare persistent facts of inequity that present anotherpicture. Among these are:- foreign aid and debt- structural adjustmentPART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^69- environmental degradation and the poor- development.1)  Foreign Aid and Debt - Our philosophical concepts ofliberalism are poorly reflected in the policies thatimplement our sense of justice. It is here that economicsgoverns. In the industrialized nations it is commonlybelieved that, through 'foreign aid', we are actingphilanthropically. We are thought to be sharing ourtechnology, our food, and our trained professionals with thedestitute of the Third World. In this way distributivejustice is achieved. Often, this is referred to in themedia as 'Western generosity' and commonly thought of ascharity. What occurs, in fact, could hardly be described asphilanthropic or generous.The United Nations Conference on Trade and Development(UNCTAD) described the debt of the Least Developed Countries(LDCs) in this way:The LDCs experienced a very rapid growth ofexternal indebtedness during the 1970s as a resultof severe external imbalances. As this was notmatched by an improvement in their generaleconomic situation, debt service obligationsbecome increasingly burdensome. The LDCs' debtsituation worsened considerably in the 1980s whenthe world economic crisis added to thevulnerability of their debt servicing capacityalready exacerbated by their structurally limitedexport base. Global recession reduced demand fortheir exports, which consisted mainly of primarycommodities. Escalating debt service obligationsfrom borrowings in earlier years, compounded byfalling export earnings and rising import costs,exerted severe pressure on the LDCs' balances ofpayments. (UNCTAD,1987:124)There are arguments and recriminations as the InternationalMonetary Fund (IMF) and the leaders of debtor states lookfor someone to blame for this vicious cycle ofPART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^70impoverishment. Did it arise from a binge of borrowing or abinge of lending? There is considerable evidence now thatit was the latter. Commercial lending institutions, whichtoday carry most of the exposure for these debts, activelycourted this risk.In the 1970s banks had sought to make a quickkilling by lending reserves swollen bypetrodollars to Latin America ($257-billion) andAfrica ($134.8 billion). At that time - from1974-80 - the lending climate looked rosy:interest rates on developing country loansaveraged 10.7 per cent and exports of non-oilexporting developing countries were expanding at21 per cent. (Bindra, 1990)As UNCTAD outlined, though, there was a rather viciousbottom line. The growth of exports from developingcountries declined to an annual rate of 1 per cent.Interest rates climbed. The oil prices dropped. Suddenlythe promise of a miraculous drive to an industrializedeconomy that could generate the capital to pay down thesedebts did not materialize. As a result the balances ofpayments reached the point that in 1987 there was a net flowof financial resources from the developing countries toindustrialized countries of $43 billion (US). In 1988 thatincreased to $50 billion. (Head, 1989b)The response of the commercial lending institutions shiftedquickly from courtship in the 70's to rejection in the 80's.Many of these financial institutions have now written offtheir Third World loans, with suggestions like those ofDonald Fullerton, the president of the Canadian ImperialBank of Commerce, that the Less Developed Countries,"are far less important to the world economy thanwas believed a few years ago. . . . In other wordsthere are a lot of very interesting things goingon in the world, and the banks see many excitingand profitable opportunities within their reachPART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^71which do not involve adding to the LDC exposure."(D. Smith, 1989)In writing off these debts, the banks have,". . . literally written off those societies andthose economies, foregoing their ownresponsibility for the original loans and for highinterest rates, abandoning any prospect of futurebusiness profit - all this in order to preservethe absolute purity of the concept of debt? . . ."(Head, 1989b)The banks would claim - do, in fact, claim - that they arenot philanthropic enterprises. They are running businesses.Certainly that cannot be disputed and while this is not theplace to raise the issue of the ethical responsibilities ofbusiness to society, it is unfortunate that their stanceseems to be reflected in the policies of First Worldgovernments which are now engaged in cutting financial aidto the Third World while bailing out the banks thatinitiated these awkward investments7.The hoped-for goal of 0.7% of the GNP directed towards aid -a target that arose out the 1969 Pearson Commission andmeant to be achieved by 1975 (Browne, 1990:23)- has now beenreduced by the Canadian government to a target of .47% by1995 (Todd, 1991). In the face of these consistentreductions, the already destitute debtor nations of theThird World are sending what little they have left to thefinancial institutions of the First World. Stephen Lewisreferred to this condition in terms of equity:You have 25% of the world using 70-80% of theworld's resources, having all of the world's7.^In Canada, federal tax regulations have allowed thebanks "to claim more than $3 billion in tax relief" as aresult of the losses from these bad debts to Third Worldcountries (Brent Jang, "Hope seen for Canadian banks' ThirdWorld loans", Vancouver Sun, 22JUL91PART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^72riches; and when enormously vulnerable countriescome to you for some relief, you exact the lastpenny of interest as though you couldn't survivewithout it. The donor countries could forgive theAfrican debt tomorrow morning and never even knowit was gone. We lost on the stock exchange on onefamous Monday in October 1987 ten times the entireAfrican debt. And you will notice that capitalismis still limping along. There is something rottenat the core of a system that behaves soinsensitively and punitively towards countrieswhich are in the precise process of responding toevery admonition and every requirement laid uponthem. (Lewis, 1988:5)The myth that 'foreign aid' in any way satisfactorily meetsthe need for equity,fails to understand that the South is not ableindefinitely to pay its debts, buy our goods,protect our environment, respect our values andrefrain from destabilizing our world. (Head,1989b)There are, in addition to the obvious implications to thisdebt burden, further hidden costs that arise out ofdestabilization. A recent study indicated that the braindrain out of the Third World exacerbates the debt burden."Although the international mobility of scientistsis an important way of exchanging expertise, underthe present setup the underdeveloped nations arecurrently the net losers in this exchange,"Professor Alan Smithers of the University ofManchester told a Royal society of Chemistryconference. (Reuters, 1991)This study indicated that over the period of 1967 to 1985there was an estimated transfer of $51 billion (US) in humancapital from India to the United States. Typicallyimmigration policy in First World countries supports thisbrain drain by restricting immigration to those withspecialized skills. UNCTAD recognized this in 1970 whentheir research uncovered that "some developing countrieslose between 20 and 70 per cent of their annual output ofPART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^73doctors." At that time it was calculated that while thevalue of this brain drain to the US economy amounted to some$3.7 billion, the value of US aid in 1970 amounted to $3.1billion. (Reuters, 1991) Even before the debt crisis thatbegan a decade later, there was a net outflow of capitalfrom the Third World.As it stands, then, the rich countries of the North aredraining the South of resources that it can least afford -knowledge and capital. Both of these resources are alreadyin great abundance in the North. It is difficult, in theface of these circumstances, to resort to the argument thatthe poor are poor because they are inefficient anduneducated. These conditions exist as a result of inequitycreated by First World development policies. Unfortunately,the developed nations, through the agency of the World Bankand the IMF, exacerbate that inequity through the additionalpolicy measure of structural adjustment..2)  Structural adjustment - The World Bank and theInternational Monetary Fund initiated structural adjustmentprograms in 1979. These programs have tied the approval ofBank loans to the initiation by recipient governments ofchanges in their domestic economy that are expected tocorrect external deficits. In other words, to assist ThirdWorld governments to improve their balance of trade and thegrowth of their GNP, the World Bank - supported programs,. . . emphasized short-term restoration of balanceof payments equilibrium and financial stability(as have IMF stabilization programs over severaldecades). Their objectives also includedimprovements in the incentive system and medium tolong-term aggregate growth. (Zuckerman, 1989:2)Viewed in economic terms it makes a great deal of sense torepair these damaged economies by setting them on a pathtowards stability. Typically this will involve thePART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^74government in redirecting its productive energies towardsexport commodities and in reducing its economic expenditureson the public sector. Once these economies are repaired andare in good health, they are then in a much better positionto generate the capital to support social services such ashealth care and education, to create employment and to repaythe interest on the outstanding loans that these governmentshave taken out. The thrust of the manipulations of theinternal policies of the recipient countries was to "giveemphasis to measures that raise the productivity of the poorrather than increase consumption through the provision ofpublic services or government subsidies." (Balassa, 1981:2)In addition to a reduction in government spending on healthand education, adjustment programmes would usually includethe elimination of food subsidies, devaluation of currency(to discourage import consumption and encourage exports),increasing prices to power, water and transportation,restriction of credit along with higher taxes and interestrates. (George, 1988:52) In return for these conditions,the debtor countries "are rewarded by being allowed to spendthe money that they receive on just about anything theylike." (Hancock, 1989:56) As often as not, this fundingwent towards the purchase of arms or was directed towardspersonal spending sprees from the likes of Marcos or theequally profligate sprees of President Mobutu Sese Seko ofZaire. While skimming "roughly 20 percent of all officialforeign assistance to his country" (Dyck, 1990) to amass apersonal estimated fortune of $3-billion, he dismissed in1984 "7,000 teachers from the public school system forbudgetary reasons" (Cornia, 1987:34) Zaire, or at least itsgovernment leader continues to receive adjustment funding.Mobutu remains, in fact, "the United States' principalAfrican client" in large part because he seems "better thanthe visible alternatives." (Pfaff, 1990) While the WorldBank officials continue to call for political reform, theirPART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^75interference in the affairs of state continues to be limitedto economic policy. The wealthy of debtor nations arecustomarily protected from the ill effects of theseadjustments to economic policies.Structural adjustment, however, raised a number of problemsfor the poor of Third World nations. In 1990 such economicreforms initiated in Zambia resulted in a 120% rise in theprice of corn meal (Bryant, 1990). Riots ensued when thisstaple of their diet was effectively put out of reach of thepoor. Twenty-seven people died and hundreds were injured.The senior vice-president of the World Bank, Moeen Qureshi,defended the Zambian government's efforts of economic reformand the need for debtor countries to begin to live withintheir means. While admitting that good governance isimportant to the successful economic management, he pointedout that "the bank's constitution prevents it from takingpurely political factors into account." The politicalturmoil that resulted from the initiation of the adjustmentpolicies, though, must be taken in stride. "There is noway, when the resources are extremely scarce, to protecteverybody . . ." (Melly, 1990)In Peru after the IMF-sponsored stabilization policy wasadopted in August of 1990, the price of bread increased by1,150 percent overnight. The price of fuel increased by2,968 percent. In the period immediately prior to theinitiation of these policies, wages had compressed by 80percent. (Chossudovsky, 1991) Under such conditions, it isnot difficult to see a relationship between economic policyand the recent outbreak of cholera throughout South America.The major banks have maintained a credit embargo on Peruuntil such time as its external debt is considered to beunder control. Until further limits are made to "futurepublic investment in the very social sectors whose chronicPART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^76deprivation has bred the present health crisis" 8 (Todd,1991), the IMF, the World Bank, and the internationalfinancial community will continue to 'adjust' the Peruvianeconomy. In the remaining months of 1991 it was predictedthat fatalities would reach more than 40,000 in the region.Under such circumstances, the 'entrepreneurial spirit'expected by the funding agencies to bring the poor out oftheir condition can hardly be expected to thrive. Andwithout hope it will be difficult for the debtor nations to"grow out of debt" as the World Bank and the IMF expected asa result of these adjustment policies. Even if, under suchdire conditions, the debtor nations could 'grow out ofdebt', they would be faced with debilitating and exacerbatedenvironmental degradation - degradation that will affect notonly the poor of the Third World, but the whole planet..3)  Environmental Degradation - In an effort to improvetheir balance of trade some debtor nations are using theirown countryside as a toxic waste dump for First Worldindustrial waste. Nations in Africa, Central and SouthAmerica as well as India and South Korea have been involvedin such dumping attempts. Often the deals proposed are verydifficult to resist."In one deal, Guinea-Bisseau was offered $40 pertonne for 15 million tonnes of foreign industrialwaste. The total payment of $600 million wouldhave been four times the West African country'sgross national product, and twice its foreigndebt." (Mcllroy, 1989a)While many of the debtor nations have been offeredhospitals, roads and medicine in return for the permission8.^It is interesting to note that while civil spending isattacked, arms budgets are not largely because "suchmeasures would be 'interfering in the internal affairs ofsovereign nations'". (George, 1988:22)PART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^77to dump this waste, some are now, like Nigeria, banningwaste imports.In the face of such behaviour and with the burden ofstructural adjustment, the debtor nations are now faced withadditional conditions on continued lending from the WorldBank and other agencies. Barber Conable, president of theWorld Bank, proposed, at their 1989 annual meeting, thatenvironmental impact assessments be sharply upgraded. Thisresulted from the increasing scrutiny that environmentalorganizations placed on the activities of the Bank and itslending policies (Gherson, 1989). It was argued that theBank should be "using its leverage to promote betterenvironmental policies in the same countries " that wereundergoing structural adjustment (Mukherji, 1989) Spurredon by some of the more overwhelming despoliation thatresulted from World Bank-aided projects in the energy,forestry and agricultural sectors (see Hancock, 1991; Adams& Solomon, 1985), environmentalists sought to temper thesedevelopmental excesses through impact assessments. Asnecessary as this environmental sensitivity is, though, thesources of environmental degradation are not in the ThirdWorld. The sources are located where industrial production,the use of automobiles, of refrigerants, of chemicals is thegreatest - that is, the First World (see WCED, 1987;McIlroy, 1989b; Trainer, 1985). To add further conditionsfor Third World debtor nations on the lending of badlyneeded capital suggests a yet another level of imperialism -this time of a kind of environmental reductionism thatrelegates "the cause of social justice to the back burner"(Stanfield, 1991:6). Barber Conable said,"developing countries have been advised not toreplicate the environmentally unsound policies andpractices of the industrialized world. But unlesssuch advice is accompanied by viable alternatives,it implies that developing countries shouldPART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^78stagnate (while) the richest nations remain freeto maintain their industry-based wealth. This isunacceptable." (Conable, 1989)So when the Chinese policy-makers say they want to see afridge in every kitchen by the year 2000, this will mean anenormous increase in the production of CFCs unless there isa 'viable alternative'. Moral suasion is not likely to bean acceptable solution. While it is possible to replaceCFCs as a refrigerant with more benign chemicalformulations, the rights to these formulae are owned byprivate companies. Authorities in India and China have saidthat they are willing to use these replacement chemicals but"only if the rich nations pay for them." (McIlroy, 1989b)Knowing, as we do, that it is absolutely necessary to thesurvival of the planet that CFC production cease, are wewilling to pay?.4)  Development - When we use the term development we woulddo well to consider what we mean by the term, and towardswhom we direct it. A dictionary yields provocativedefinitions. One refers to growth and expansion and anotherrefers to evolution and maturation. Often our concept ofdevelopment has tended strongly towards the former at theexpense of the latter. This idea of development asexpansion favours the model perpetuated by theindustrialized nations. The latter concept would tend tofavour a more participatory development at the grassrootslevel. The former tends to view development both asphilanthropic aid and as market expansion, the latter moreas equal partnership. Behind these differing perceptions ofthe concept of development there are questions: developmentfor whom and for what motivation?At a conference in the fall of 1990, Patricia Keays used asan example of the more traditional concept of development, ahunger project in Zimbabwe. The way the project was set upPART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^79by the donor agency, the local people were faced withquestions as to who was going to eat, what they could eat,and how much of it they might get. The terms were dictatedby the funding agency to such an oppressive extent that thefield workers decided finally that starvation was betterthan capitulation. What this said to her is that a'development of transformation' was required and thattransformative work needs to be undertaken by the 10% of thepopulation that controls resources rather than the 90% ofthose who don't. There are two main points that fall out ofthis story:1. that the "preoccupation with the project cycle,external controls and budgets are the trademarks ofconventional development approaches." (Gohlert, 1991:8)This preoccupation does not function well at the fieldlevel. The priority of documentation often overtakesthe priorities of the community itself. (see Hancock,1991:124-128)2. that unless people are involved directly indevelopment what is undertaken is not development atall. Under such circumstances the poor become theobjects of development; in effect, the vehicles forprograms, projects and investment9. As a result, the9.^With 78% of Canadian Overseas Development Aid (ODA)remaining in Canada (Keays, 1990), it is not difficult tosee why the poor are necessary as vehicles of development.It is an approach that the government uses in its domestichousing delivery and is consistently used by Canadiangovernment officials to inspire the Canadian public aboutaid. This represents not just the former stance of thegovernment towards foreign aid (see Clarke & Swift,1982:149-211), but their current thinking as well. Thevice-president of CIDA, Lewis Perinbam was quoted inSeptember of 1991: "It's time to regard internationaldevelopment as an investment rather than a publicexpenditure. It is the bridge to our future. For instance,the funds we have contributed to non-governmentalorganizations that take young Canadians to the far cornersPART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^80goals and priorities of development will vary widelydepending on whom one asks. If the poor themselves arenot included in the framing of priorities, as,typically, they are not, then those priorities will beskewed to meet the needs of the donor and recipientagencies. "As a Senegalese peasant commented after onemission of high-powered development experts had made acursory tour of his village: 'They do not know thatthere are living people here.'" (Hancock, 1991:125)Our conventional development paradigm - in demanding theintegration of local economies in the international market,in steadfastly burying the needs of the poor in a growth-centred, top-down model that exacerbates thedisenfranchisement of communities - aggravates inequity.This model typifies governments' domestic policy in housing,as well (see Chapter 5).The privileged world in which we live is intimately tied tothe economies and ultimately to the inequitable socialconditions of the Third World. Our access to resources isgained at some expense. It does not arise inconsequentiallyout of nothing. The expenses of development are most oftenpaid by the people who can least afford it - the poor of theThird World. It is difficult to justify or rationalize thisimposed inequity when nearly half of the world cannot meeteven its basic needs.of the globe have created a Canadian presence in more than100 countries. They have opened doors for our privatesector in countries where it would otherwise be unknown."(The Globe & Mail, 10 SEP 91)PART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^813.3.2.^Basic NeedsThere are two perceived levels of basic needs - thebiophysical and the psychosocial. The former, or firststage, is a necessary element in sustaining life and isrelated to the minimum requirements of the family forprivate consumption. The latter, the second stage, isrelated to the essential services provided by the publicsector. In 1948, the United Nations, in its UniversalDeclaration of Human Rights, spelled out those basic needsas food, clothing, housing, medical care, social services,security, education, dignity, and "the free development of[individual] personality. (McHale, 1978) The basic needsthat are generally thought of as the first stage, thebiophysical, are those of food, shelter, clothing andhousehold goods. Those of the second stage, thepsychosocial, are education, health, public transportation,sanitation and water supply. (ILO, 1981) These can only besupplied through the intervention of some higher authorityor social organization. When the state or the community isunable or unwilling to provide these basic rights for itscitizens, then that responsibility passes on to thoseorganizations that can realize these rights and meet thebasic needs of the community. In addition to thoseinfrastructural needs, the second stage encompasses a widerrange of individual needs such as security, dignity andself-actualization (McHale, 1978; Nevis, 1984) These needs,too, arise out of society and the individual's relationshipto it. They are difficult, if not impossible, to quantify.Nonetheless, they exist within this hierarchy of basicneeds. Food, water and shelter are more fundamental thanself-actualization - after all, one must be alive to be ableto consider one's dignity and self-actualization - but boththe biophysical and the psychosocial needs are basic tohuman life.PART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^82The essential tenet of the basic needs approach todevelopment is "that the poor groups in society be made thefocus of development and helped to meet their most basicneeds." (ILO, 1981) As elementary and obvious as thisapproach might be in addressing inequities from the bottomup, there are implications to the implementation of thissimple idea. One of these implications is socialtransformation. In order to address these inequities, theremust be some redistribution of existing assets and incomeand there must be some redistribution of political powerthrough decentralization. (Soejatmoko, 1979; Blunt, 1985;ILO, 1977, 1981; Leipziger, 1981)The concept of basic needs and the implied transformationthat accompanies it, do not come as a revelation to thosewho do not have the political power, the resources or theequity. Because the developed nations control thoseresources, the responsibility for their redistribution restsfirst with them. These are responsibilities, too, thatarise out of being human. It is up to us to choose how wewill act upon those responsibilities (and how they will actupon us).3.3.3.^Needs as RightsWith increasing frequency, the expansion of urbandevelopment has given rise to conflicts of rights. Whilethe validity of these rights in themselves is stilldisputed, the conflicts between communities, as well asbetween species, grows as the limits of frontiers arereached. Typically these rights, if they are considered atall, are viewed as competitive. Communities are givenchoices by governing authorities: either housing orfarming; either housing or parkland; either liveability oraffordability. In the Third World these are profoundchoices. In the First World they are more often lifestylePART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^83choices; that is, the choice between productive farmland ora golf course, or occasionally, between housing and theaesthetic value of open space. In either case, the conflictis between competing uses of land; land that, in most urbanareas, has become increasingly unavailable for furtherdevelopment either as a result of existing use orrestrictive zoning.The frontiers that we are reaching as our cities expand arelimits that occur in urban development throughout the world.The way in which communities attempt to resolve theseconflicts determines the health and liveability, not only ofthose communities themselves, but of the globe..1)  The Concept of Rights - When a child is born, does he orshe have rights that arrive with that first breath? We knowthat this child has basic needs, without which life couldnot continue. But is the fulfillment of these basic needs ahuman right? In other words, once alive, does this childhave the right to a support system that will allow the childto continue to live? Or, further, a right to thrive?10The 1948 United Nations adopted the Universal Declaration ofHuman Rights. This document delineates three basiccategories of rights:"1. civil rights and liberties, such as speech,publication, association, religion movement;2. political rights, such as the ability toinfluence government and chooserepresentatives;3. social and economic rights, such as the rightto work, the right to social security duringillness and old age, the right to an incomeconsistent with human dignity, the right to10. See Abraham Maslow, Toward a Psychology of Being. NewYork: D. Van Nostrand Company, 1968. regarding thehierarchy of needs subsumed, according to Maslow by the needfor self-actualization.PART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^84leisure, and the right to an education."(Hulchanski, 1989:7)The first of these categories of rights can be considered tobe generally negative, in that it provides freedom from therestrictions of others. The obligations of others thatcorrespond to my civil rights are to leave me alone, torefrain from actions that restrict my liberties.The second and third categories tend to be positive rightsin that the obligations of others in realizing these rightsrequires action and, frequently, money. While there arecosts associated with our right to influence ourgovernments, we have come to accept these costs as alegitimate price for our ability to exercise those rights.It is the third category of rights that remains contentious.Unlike the right to be left alone, the right to housingentails some obligation on the part of society to fulfillthat right through the provision of services, the transferof wealth and the investment of resources..2)  Housing Rights - Articles 22 to 26 of the UniversalDeclaration of Human Rights concern the rights of theindividual to social security, employment, leisure, basicneeds, and education. All of these rights concern socialjustice rather than individual freedom (Miller, 1976:79)Article 25(1) states:"Everyone has the right to a standard of livingadequate for the health and well-being of himselfand of his family, including food, clothing,housing and medical care . . ." (in Sieghart,1985:176)This article refers to the basic biophysical human needs.Without food, the child whose rights concern us here willsurely die. Indeed, according to Unicef, these childrenhave been dying from starvation and preventable diseases atPART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^85the rate of 250,000 every week (see Vallely, 1990:3). Suchstatistics would tend to make this assertion of human rightsa claim based on universal and urgent need, that of survivalitself. As the right to live is affected by the access tofood, so too is it affected by access to housing (see Hardoyet al, 1990).The right to housing is acknowledged in many otherinternational covenants as well as in the constitutions ofan increasing number of nations. Through these documentsthe philosophical recognition of basic needs is grounded inlaw. If we accept the right to live, then we must acceptthe right to those basic needs that support life. Housingis one of those basic needs..3)  Needs as rights - Is there a right to survival? Is thefulfillment of these basic needs a right? Schachtersuggests that the question is essentially rhetorical.It has become virtually platitudinous to suggestthat everyone is entitled to the necessities oflife: food, shelter, health care, education, andthe essential infrastructure for socialorganization. At the same time, it would beconsidered quixotic to suggest the classicalMarxist maxim 'to each according to his need' as acriterion of distribution. Even Marx regardedthat principle as the distant goal of a classlessand abundant society. Yet when construed as astandard of minimal need it loses its utopianquality. (Schachter, 1977:7-8)It has been further stated that there are ideologicalimplications to such a question. For some it is not quiterhetorical. If phrased in a different way, it could, andhas been asked, 'Can society afford it?'IS ^conservative counter-attack on the welfarestate is above all an attack on the idea thatthese [basic needs for food, shelter, clothing,education and employment] make rights; an attackPART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^86on this idea puts into question the very notion ofa society as a moral community." (Ignatieff,1985:13)Ignatieff's statement strongly suggests that we cannotlegitimately ask this question within a moral framework (seealso Bradley, 1951). If we accept the concept of moralityat all, then we must view basic needs as rights. Thedefinition of these needs will vary with circumstances, butthere is a basic level of need that crosses the boundariesof circumstance.Miller (1976) refers to three different kinds of needs:instrumental, functional and intrinsic. The first two aremeans to other ends while the last is an end in itself.Needing a key to enter a house is an example of the formerand needing food is an example of the latter. With food andother intrinsic needs we must consider "the harm which theperson will suffer through not being given what we say heneeds." (Miller, 1976:130) The satisfaction of theseintrinsic needs can be considered as a matter of humanity oras a matter of justice. The premise that underlies theformer is the avoidance of suffering and the premise thatunderlies the latter is the principle of equality. Thereis, Miller points out, an intimate relationship between thesatisfaction of needs and equality. In turn, "justiceconsists (minimally) in a distribution of resourcesaccording to need, and that this forms a primary part of[the egalitarian] conception of equality." (Miller,1976:149)Streeten argues that the cost of implementing the access tobasic needs is prohibitively expensive, to the point, hesays, that "few would assert such a right even in richsocieties such as the United States . . . In poor,developing societies such 'rights' have to be even morecarefully examined." In addition to the expense and thePART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^87troublesome choices in resource allocation for poorcountries, such a commitment "would blunt incentives forwork and saving." (Streeten, 1981:189)Beyond the fact that this weekly tally of 250,000 childrenwill hardly have the opportunity to have their incentivesblunted, Streeten's argument concerns only the difficulty inimplementation, not the existence of these rights. Further,it assumes that the fulfillment of these basic needs isconfined by national boundaries. He reluctantly accedes theconcept of positive rights:"If it is accepted that our common humanity andour membership in specific societies such as thestate impose some obligation on us, the right to afair share of the available resources would appearto be a human right . . ." (Streeten, 1981:192)While accepting the notion, he still places theresponsibility firmly within national boundaries. Forexample, in implementing the right to education in poorcountries, he suggests that:"A vastly greater share of a much smaller nationalcake (and budget) would have to be devoted toeducation, with the inevitable result that lesswould be left over for the implementation of otherobjectives, including other social and economic'rights'." (Streeten, 1981:190)When the United Nations referred to this document as theUniversal Declaration of Human Rights, it would suggestthat, through its universality, these rights holdirrespective of national boundaries. The existence ofeconomic hurdles to the implementation of these rights doesnot address the validity or existence of the basic needs orthe rights to which they are attached. These basic needs,PART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^88though, must be seen within the wider context of the needsof non-human nature.".4)  Environmental Rights - John Passmore has proposed thatthe environment itself cannot be seen to have rights assuch, but we can talk about the rights of humans beinglimited in their options to do whatever they like with theenvironment. This can be seen more in the nature ofresponsibility rather than a limitation of rights.(Passmore, 1974:116) De George indicates that to use theterm 'rights' in this context is to create confusion. "Theusual ways of unpacking rights in terms of justifiable moralclaims, or in terms of interests, or in terms of freedom donot apply to nature or trees." (De George, 1979:94) Theability to choose between acts, or to have interests impliesthe ability to act consciously.William Leiss, though, following Christopher Stone, equatesthe natural environment to other entities such ascorporations, states, or infants. Although none of thesehas the ability to represent its own interests, people canand do act as advocates on their behalf."Under the law of guardianship a natural entity (aliving thing, group of things, or part of terrain)could be represented in a regular legalproceeding, where the present or projected humanimpact on that entity would have to be explicitlydefended and assessed. (Leiss, 1988:120)Whether we consider it to be a human responsibility to thenatural environment or as a right with which nature isimbued, these rights or responsibilities extend across11. See William Leiss, The Limits to Satisfaction: An essayon the problem of needs and commodities. Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1988. He argues that, in anydiscussion of basic human needs, there must be awareness ofthe environmental impact of those needs.PART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^89national boundaries and require moral action from humanbeings. Acid rain in the northeastern North America or thefallout from Chernobyl indicate the irrelevance of theseartificial boundaries particularly with regard to theeffects of irresponsible human behaviour.From another stance, however, we might suggest that, asidefrom the contentious issue of rights-claims by theenvironment itself, human beings have a right to a healthyenvironment. Certainly by implication in Article 25(1),human beings do have the right of access to a healthyenvironment if only in the sense that by their right to "astandard of living adequate for [one's] health and well-being" can only be achieved if the support system for thatwell-being exists. If we can agree that human beings, ifnot all lifeforms12 , have a right to live, then we cannotremove the vital support systems that maintain that lifewithout injuring the life and its rights..5)  Responsibilities - The existence of universal rightsimplies that the corresponding obligations hold across stateboundaries as well.Prior to the Second World War, the concept of human rightsdid not extend beyond national borders. In internationalaffairs, the way in which a sovereign state treated itscitizens was not the legitimate concern of any other state.In 1936, any complaint about the treatment of the GermanJews through the enactment of the Nurnberg laws would havebeen readily dismissed in the still well-used phrase, 'anillegitimate interference in the internal affairs of state.'12. see Albert Schweitzer's ethics of 'reverence for lifein his Civilization and Ethics.PART I^3. ARCHITECTURE & RIGHT ACTION^90Paul Sieghart points out that since the war much haschanged.For since Hitler's and Stalin's time there hasbeen a change in international law so profoundthat it can properly be called a revolution.T