Architecture? What’s the Point?
How "Equality, Diversity and Inclusion" (EDI) Undermines The Architect’s Role as an Authority in Building Design
This essay originally appeared in the Future Cities Project publication “Five Critical Essays on EDI”. The full booklet can be downloaded here: Five Critical Essays on EDI
The American Institute of Architects’ (AIA) claims that: ‘As part of a global community, AIA is building a culture of equity, diversity, and inclusion to build a better future for everyone. We’re moving justice and equity decisively from aspiration to action.’
The AIA is the premier professional organization for architects in the United States, boasting over 100,000 members. Its mission is to advocate for the architectural profession and highlight the significance of exceptional design at national, state, and local levels. However, in recent years, the AIA and the architecture profession have strayed from their core mission, becoming increasingly fixated on what can best be described as a religious zeal for projecting virtue.
In this shift, the emphasis has transitioned from promoting exceptional design and securing additional projects for architects, to prioritizing ‘equity, diversity, and inclusion’ in its advocacy efforts. This pivot toward EDI initiatives is not an isolated phenomenon within the architecture profession; rather, it refects a broader response to a wave of fervour that permeated nearly all mainstream American institutions following the civil unrest of 2020.
The AIA is not alone in this deviation. Since 2020, EDI considerations have overwhelmingly dominated academic discourse in American architecture schools, yielding to the pressures of outspoken ‘woke’ advocates within the field. For instance, Harvard Graduate School of Design’s recent lecture series features events celebrating ‘International Womxn’s Day’ and ‘Designing for Abolition.’ Moreover, last year, the Harvard GSD Student Forum passed a resolution calling for the university to divest from ‘institutions and organizations that provide material assistance or support for the ongoing occupation of Palestine.’
It is perhaps not surprising that the architecture profession is prone to what some call ‘progressive politics’ or what other observers might call ‘do-gooder syndrome’. This field attracts individuals who genuinely aspire to positively impact the world through design. Before the rise of EDI there were other political initiatives to take our mind of actually designing stuff. Back then, architects’ primary focus was on combatting climate change through sustainable building practices. While prioritizing energy efficiency, human comfort, and resilience against natural disasters are essential, striving for sustainability has often overshadowed fundamental aspects, such as creating aesthetically pleasing buildings.
How did architecture evolve to be perceived as a vehicle for social justice advocacy? What has become of the Vitruvian principles of strength, utility, and beauty? A closer examination reveals that the growing emphasis on critical social justice within the field of architecture is a natural progression emerging from the disillusionment that followed Modernism.
Deconstructing Narratives
While Modernism sought to establish architecture’s dominance by showcasing the technological advancements of the 20th century, its disregard for historical context in favor of a tabula rasa approach appears, in hindsight, to have been a significant oversight. Whether we recognize it or not, we are all part of a historical continuum. The repercussions of failed states arising from revolutionary zeal, particularly in Communist movements, serve as a poignant reminder of the perils associated with abandoning historical narratives.
Post-modernism sought to re-establish a connection with history, but it often approached this endeavor with a sense of cynicism. The playful references to Classical architecture could be charming at times, yet they frequently came across as contrived. Deconstructivism intensifed the ongoing identity crisis in architecture by deliberately disrupting the coherence of building elements and embracing a sense of disorder. Architect Peter Eisenman, a leading practitioner of Deconstructivism, noted, ‘The architecture we remember is that which never consoles or comforts us.’
Another key figure in the movement, Bernard Tschumi, took this perspective even further, dismissing the non-architect public by stating that ‘they will almost always stand behind the traditionalists. In the public eye, architecture is about comfort, shelter, about bricks and mortar.’ Since when has architecture not been about comfort, shelter, bricks, and mortar? These elements are fundamental.
What connection does Deconstructivism, which rose to prominence in architectural academia during the 1980s, have with Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion in the profession today? The answer lies in the intellectual framework followed by Deconstructivist architects like Eisenman and Tschumi, heavily influenced by French postmodern philosophers such as Jacques Derrida, Michel Foucault, and Jean-François Lyotard.
As the book, Cynical Theories explains, ‘these ‘critical theorists’ rejected the ‘Enlightenment values that emphasized beliefs in objective knowledge, universal truth, science as a means of obtaining objective understanding, the power of reason, the potential for straightforward communication through language, a universal human nature, and individualism.’ The authors, Lindsay and Pluckrose further discuss how this rejection of Enlightenment principles evolved into what they term ‘Social Justice scholarship’:
‘In Social Justice scholarship, we continually read that patriarchy, white supremacy, imperialism, cisnormativity, heteronormativity, ableism, and fatphobia are literally structuring society and infecting everything.’
So, in essence, by ‘deconstructing’ Enlightenment values, the critical theorists opened the door for social justice activists to hijack Western institutions. For the architecture profession, this hard pivot toward insular nihilism profoundly damaged the prestige and relevance it once held in public consciousness. This is deeply ironic, given that the architectural academics of the post-modern era leveraged their writing and research to try and elevate architecture as a distinguished and esteemed discipline. In reality, it had the opposite effect, alienating the public with esoteric jargon and illegible buildings.
Although Modern Architecture never quite lived up to its lofty ideals, the cynicism that followed further detached the profession from its essential functions. After Postmodernism fell out of fashion, the Western architectural historical canon was again relegated to the sidelines. As we approached the turn of the Millennium, mainstream architectural discourse became dominated by the ‘Bilbao Effect’, referring to the surge in tourism experienced by the Basque region’s largest city after the opening of Frank Gehry’s Guggenheim Museum in 1997.
For a moment, this made architecture sexy again in the public eye as dazzling sculptural buildings caught the attention of civic leaders worldwide who desired a similar magical impact on their post-industrial, derelict economies. Hebert Muschamp, the New York Times Architecture Critic from 1992 – 2004, was the leading advocate and promoter for what became known as ‘Starchitecture’ (he once referred to the Guggenheim Bilbao as ‘the reincarnation of Marilyn Monroe’). In addition to Gehry, he championed rising global celebrity architects like Rem Koolhaas, Zaha Hadid, Jean Nouvel, and others who designed buildings with pizazz: buildings that looked striking in aerial photos.
While this was excellent public relations for architecture, an underlying perceived vacuousness made many in the profession (especially in academic circles) crave more substance and meaning. However, instead of returning to architecture’s foundational roots, the profession strayed even further from the art of building.
The Architect as Activist
While celebrity architecture dominated mainstream design discourse, critical theory transitioned from an academic thought experiment into practical application. This evolution first manifested in architecture as an increasing awareness of sustainability or ‘green design’. Although environmental activism had been present since the ‘60s and ‘70s, it was not until the early 2000s that a predominant view emerged, acknowledging the construction industry as a primary contributor to ‘global warming’ (variously referred to as ‘climate change’) due to carbon emissions generated both during construction and throughout the lifecycle of buildings.
Concerns about global climate change provided architects a perfect opportunity to reframe the profession as heroic and environmentally conscious. Emerging green building rating systems such as LEED and BREEAM established frameworks enabling architects and builders to demonstrate to investors and the public that their designs not only minimized environmental harm but also contributed positively to addressing the issue. Sustainability also gave rise to a novel industry niche within the building professions dedicated to monitoring, tracking, and analyzing green building objectives.
Sustainability is now widely embraced within the profession and is integral to most mainstream architectural practices. To be sure, the green building movement has introduced many genuinely beneficial principles to the profession: designing spaces for human health and comfort, enhancing energy and water efficiency, and acknowledging adaptive reuse as an exciting creative challenge. Nonetheless, underpinning the green building movement is a pervasive and often unspoken sense of guilt regarding the perceived conflict between human construction activities and environmental sustainability.
This sentiment suggests that any form of resource consumption, energy expenditure, or embodied carbon utilization constitutes a fundamental transgression against ecological integrity. Concerns about resource scarcity have led to the implementation of stringent land-use regulations and burdensome building codes. Such a scarcity mindset often stifles architectural creativity and is contrary to celebrating the human spirit.
Sustainability has become associated with what is known as ‘Environmental, Social, and Governance’ (ESG) – a corporate investing principle that prioritizes what it says on the tin. While sustainability is reflected in the ‘E’ component, it is the ‘S’ where EDI has thrived. With the rise of EDI, it is no longer enough to design environmentally-sustainable projects – they must also have a social impact.
Unfortunately, ‘social impact’ is considerably more nebulous and challenging to quantify than sustainability goals (which are primarily based on building science). In the context of the architecture profession, ‘social impact’ is often less a reflection of actual architecture and more connected to peripheral factors such as building type (is it something socially beneficial like subsidized housing?), site location (is it situated in an underserved community?), and the client (is it a government agency or a non-profit?). This consideration can also extend to the architects themselves (are they from an ‘underrepresented group’?).
By focusing solely on EDI and ‘social impact,’ architecture gives up its authority to social justice activists, who take on the roles of judge, jury, and executioner in deciding whether a project (and its architect) merit recognition. As a result, undertaking development work for for-profit developers is seen as tainted, and collaborating with clients in certain developing countries is regarded as suspect. Moreover, and perhaps most importantly, EDI undermines the architect’s role as an authority in building design.
Architecture: That’s the Point
When asked about their favorite kind of architecture, most people tend to mention classic European cities like Florence, Paris, or Vienna. Although they may struggle to articulate exactly what makes these places so appealing, they have an instinctual sense that these cities are unique—truly works of art. Many Americans often reflect upon returning home from their European holiday, asking themselves, ‘Why don’t we build like that anymore?’ Architects will often roll their eyes at this question and then proceed to launch into detailed explanations about the evolution of building techniques and the economic realities of 21st-century construction.
Nevertheless, the question remains pertinent: It doesn’t matter how diverse the workforce or how egalitarian the hiring practices, if architects are unable to design beautiful buildings that inspire and uplift the human spirit, what is the true purpose of our profession? It is essential that we shift our focus away from social trends and recommit to the foundational values of our field.
American architects may have some help from the top in this matter. On the first day of the new White House Administration, President Trump signed the ‘Promoting Beautiful Federal Civic Architecture’ executive order, which aims to promote the use of ‘traditional and classical’ architecture for civic buildings. Specifically, the order states that ‘Federal public buildings should be visually identifiable as civic buildings and respect regional, traditional, and classical architectural heritage to uplift and beautify public spaces.’ Sounds reasonable. Coincidently, the order overlapped with another executive order ending all EDI programs across the Federal Government, deeming them wasteful and discriminatory.
The AIA unsurprisingly came out against President Trump’s executive order, stating that it is ‘extremely concerned about any revisions that remove control from local communities or mandate official federal design preferences that hinder design freedom.’ Yet this statement directly contradicts the executive order’s language, which explicitly says that public buildings should respect regional, traditional, and classical architectural heritage.
The effects of the executive order remain to be seen. Nevertheless, rather than hastily condemning it, the AIA and the architecture profession should take into account the motivations behind the President’s decision to issue it, along with its considerable popularity among the American public. It may be that the best route for architecture to reclaim its relevance lies not in navel-gazing introspection or superficial displays of Critical Social Justice, but in rediscovering its traditional and classical foundations.
This essay originally appeared in the Future Cities Project publication “Five Critical Essays on EDI”. The full booklet can be downloaded here: Five Critical Essays on EDI