Ethics for Architects: Introductory Comments
Thomas Fisher, Dean of the College of Design at the University of Minnesota, was recognized in 2005 as the fifth most published writer about architecture in the United States, having written 47 book chapters or introductions and over 325 articles. Of the 7 books he has published, two focus on architecture and ethics.
I wrote the following introductory comments as part of a panel discussion at the ACSA Annual Meeting in Boston, March 1-3, 2012, speaking as one of the authors in the new book Architecture School, edited by Joan Ockman and Rebecca Williamson (MIT Press, 2012). For more about ethics and architecture, you might look up my recent book, Ethics for Architects (Princeton Architecture Press, 2010), or check out my blog: www.ethicsforarchitects.blogspot.com. As you will see from this entry, I think that, while etiquette can sometimes enhance our ethics, it can also blind us to ethical lapses in our colleagues or our clients that we are too polite to condemn. The value of ethics lies in its asking uncomfortable questions about our often-unchallenged assumptions about power and privilege and about our often-unexamined responsibilities to others who have neither. This is particularly an issue in architecture, which Nietzsche called “the will to power by means of form,” a field that because of its difficulty and expense often finds itself complicit in accommodating and reinforcing the power and privilege of those who have the money to commission it.
Because of the questions it asks, ethics can seem like a threat to architecture, and so ethics has largely had a marginal role in architectural education. The rise of architectural education in the second half of the 19th Century coincided with an effort, led by the critic Oscar Wilde, to separate the realm of aesthetics from that of ethics. We see that separation in the formalism and aestheticism of 19th and early 20th century Beaux Arts architecture, in which the focus on the creation of classical façades and idealized interior and exterior environments papered over the industrial pollution, environmental destruction, and social inequality that enriched the public and private clients of those buildings.
Architects themselves played a somewhat paradoxical role in this. On one hand, the profession had become complicit in enabling those in power to feel good about themselves, with the discourse in schools of architecture largely focused on the skill with which students could learn this classical disguise. On the other hand, the profession found itself increasingly exploited by those in power, which led, in 1909, to the AIA’s first code of ethics. The prohibitions in that first code against the exploitative practices of clients wanting architects, for example, to give away their design ideas in unpaid competitions or to compete for work based on who had the lowest fees, shows how much the unfair treatment that had enriched those who commissioned buildings had gotten applied to those who designed them.
The rise of modern architecture in the schools in the 1920s and ‘30s might seem like a ripping away of the Beaux Arts façade and the recognition of the needs of the working class. Certainly, modern architects’ admiration of industrial architecture, emphasis on transparency, and attention to new kinds of programs, like worker housing, all reinforce that appearance. But modern architecture actually represented a new kind of ethical slight of hand, based on what the philosopher William Barrett has called “the illusion of technique.” While modern architecture seemed more sympathetic to the plight of the working class through the use of industrial materials and methods, the profession and the schools did little to challenge the social, economic, or political power of clients. In addition, the “international style” ignored differences of culture or climate, turning the idea of universal rights into a form of repression.
Ethics finally emerged in the late 1960s as an explicit area of study in architecture education, becoming part of the accreditation process in the 1970s. And since then, we have seen a flourishing of ethical questioning in the schools, be it challenges to the dominance of men and male ways of thinking on the part of feminist ethics or challenges to the dominance of humans over other species on the part of environmental ethics, challenges to the dominance of capitalism and its exploitation of workers on the part of Marxist ethics, or challenges to the dominance of reason and abstract rationality on the part of phenomenological ethics.
This “ethical turn” in architecture education has greatly enriched the intellectual life in our schools, although it has had relatively little impact on a profession still dependent on those individuals, organizations, and communities with enough wealth and power to commission architects. And that has washed back over the schools of late, as architectural education has seen the resurgence in aestheticism and the illusion of technique as a result of the digital revolution, in which computer-generated form-making and digital fabrication methods have become an end in themselves, with the needs of the global population, future generations, and other species on the planet largely overlooked.
So pay attention to what issues are not addressed in a design, to what questions don’t get asked in a review, and what goes unsaid in the stories we tell about ourselves as a profession and a discipline. That is where you will find the “will to power” in our field and where you will discover the real power of ethics.
User Research
Jennifer Pechacek has a ten-year career leading marketing, communications, branding, and event promotions for non-profit, community centered, and corporate entities within the A/E/C industry. She joined Pyatok Architects in 2011 as the Communications Director.
As architects and designers, we are supported by our education, and with that come both privileges and a set of values. In school, we are challenged by assignments and by participating in a learning environment. Our education gives us the privilege to access a broader mix of outside resources, trends, and experiences—and thus results—in establishing our own set of values and tastes, which we use as a set of guidelines. Granted, all schools do not provide the same pedagogical outcomes, but the underlying ethos is the same. We are taught to use design to change lives, solve complexities, and enhance social comforts, whether through products, services, or environments.
But the ethical questions lie in practice, where the most pressing challenge is our ability to understand the distinction between our values and design formulas and what is desired or needed. We have to remember that we are getting paid to provide a service. How we approached design in school is most often not replicated in practice. Instead, we have to ask ourselves if our ideas are relevant for the end user and client or are merely our interpretation of their needs through our value chain—the question of “ego and authorship” versus “end user and client.”
In any building type, there is an ethical question around engaging users beyond the client reps, developer, etc., and our values should be addressed and discussed openly when designing for any community. The biggest hurdle that I see is that intensive user research is not supported in practice. The hoops and hurdles, client policies, budget, and time challenge this activity.
Not to mention that our industry is set up for planning and programming to be a separate contract with a lower priority, as getting a building built is the more tangible success. Planning and programming are nevertheless fundamental to the overall design process in architecture.
Given that we work in an industry not quick to change its processes, where does the profession evolve from here? Is the answer a stronger tie between academic and professional worlds, through which the profession relies on academia to answer broader user research? Or does a new form of practice begin to emerge that elevates the planning and programming portion of a project to a level equal to design and execution?
Design Ethics in Disasters
Alexandra-Jayeun Lee is a PhD Candidate in Architecture at the University of Auckland and co-founder of Architecture for Humanity Auckland Chapter in New Zealand.
It always comes as a surprise that ethics still remains an optional discourse for many schools of architecture around the world, just as often as sustainability is caught out to be a token gesture in many design projects today. The topic of ethics is entangled with Socratic contradictions that generate one question after another; and, because it seldom offers tangible, actionable solutions, the topic makes the vast majority of the architectural profession glaze over or, worse, assume that they are already ethical both in their decision-making and conduct.
My penchant for architectural ethics has led me to spending the past three years at the University of Auckland and UC Berkeley, asking the question, “What is the ethical role of architects in humanitarian endeavours?”—with particular interest in the various roles the design professions play in the context of disasters. The research looks at the ethical roles and attitudes of architects who are currently active in the field in humanitarian endeavors. With more than half of the world’s population now living in cities, the ethics of designing for the disenfranchised is a double-edged sword: the industry proponents call it Architecture for Humanity (via Cameron Sinclair), and its skeptics call it New Imperialism (via David Harvey). However, when the repercussions of any action (and sometimes inaction) involve human lives, the issue becomes even more laden with ethical questions.
Internationally, the humanitarian aid industry is replete with examples of more or less inappropriate solutions to housing and their cookie-cutter approach to post-disaster reconstruction that have become a vicious cycle for many agencies. Opportunities to build back better have often been missed due to pressures of “Time Compression,” inhibiting sustainable recovery.
Having just returned from Bati Byen, the Rebuilding Centre in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, I am very optimistic about the role the professionals—architects, planners, urban designers, engineers—could play in facilitating the various agents of recovery (such as local neighborhood groups, the government, other local and global agencies) to build back better. Despite my as-of-yet deficient understanding on how professional ethics, humanitarian ethics, indigenous ethics, and personal ethics are present in the post-disaster context, it is obvious that they sometimes compete, contradict, and complement, yet necessarily coexist with each other. The art of asking the right questions, perhaps, has never been more important for ethics in disasters. It is something to be considered for an increasingly global practice of architects honing their design etiquette for foreign sites.
On Supplanting
Kurt Cooknick, Assoc. AIA is Director of Regulation & Practice for the AIA California Council.
About once or twice a month I receive a phone call, or email, from a member seeking guidance on how to go about taking over a project started by another architect (commonly referred to as supplanting). I like these calls. I like them because they’re made while the architect still has all their options available, and the inquiry can be approached from a risk management perspective rather than damage control.
Prior to agreeing to take over another architect’s project, there are a few things you’ll need to help you decide how—and if—you should proceed.
First, you’ll need to have a conversation with the architect you may be replacing. No doubt the client will have shared with you their version of events, but there are often several sides to every story. Not only is it a good business practice, but it’s also out of professional courtesy that you contact the original architect to get their version of the situation, as well.
If the client objects to you speaking with the previous architect, that may be all you need to know to make your decision to decline to accept the project. Who knows, maybe the client doesn’t want you to know that they were a slow pay, or worse—a no pay! Emotions are at hand here; filter what you hear with common sense and professional judgment.
Second, get the owner/architect agreement. Agreements exist to memorialize the roles and responsibilities of each participant. It’s truly the only way you will know what was supposed to happen and when. And don’t forget to look for any subsequent amendments.
A careful review of the terms and conditions may reveal that you need to receive the permission of the original architect to complete the work. You don’t want to find out the hard way that your professional liability policy does not cover copyright infringement!
There’s also the matter of the termination of services that brought you to this point in the first place. Did the contract have a termination agreement and did it cover “cause” and “convenience”? If it was for cause—what was it? And if it was for convenience—whose was it? Did the dispute arise over fees? Look at the fee schedule. Maybe the original architect’s fees were too low to complete the project. If so, that’s their problem, but don’t make it yours.
Finally, be sure you understand the various liability issues at hand. Depending on what stage the project is in, part of your proposal should include an evaluation of the work completed to date.
Because of the unknowns, you would be wise to do this on a time and materials basis. You may also want to insist on an indemnification for claims arising from the services performed by the original project architect. Remember, risk management is your first priority—not the commission.
Again?
Bill Bocook, AIA is an architect in Palo Alto.
Several years ago, I was called by an owner who was inquiring if I would be interested in providing architectural services for a senior residential care facility in Palo Alto. I soon found out that a good friend of mine, after working a year with no city or neighborhood endorsement, had been fired.
I accepted the job, but before starting on the project, I invited my friend to lunch and made certain he understood that I had not sought out the client or the job.
I subsequently took the job, won over the city and neighborhood with a totally different concept, and the project was successfully built.
Five years after this project was completed, I received a call from a different owner asking if I would consider taking over the architectural services for another senior care facility, and I later learned that I was taking over from the same architect as five years before. I accepted the commission, called my friend to let him know that I had not solicited the job, but nevertheless had been offered this job that he had started.
When he came to the phone, knowing I was calling, he answered, “Is this a call to tell me you are taking another one of my jobs?” I had to tell him yes, but offered to take him to another lunch.
Law and Courtesy
Trained as an architect at UC Berkeley, Steven Sharafian is an attorney with Long & Levit LLP in San Francisco, where he counsels and provides risk management services to architects, engineers, and landscape architects.
Simple courtesies play a critical role in any professional engagement: satisfying the client. Although the ultimate success of a project is clearly important, often how a client feels treated influences—for better or for worse—a client’s sense of satisfaction. Don’t underestimate the impact of:
Listening respectfully to a client;
Returning telephone calls (and nowadays, e-mails) within a business day;
Keeping a client abreast of developments; and
Accomplishing tasks within an agreed upon time frame.
These and other like, simple habits demonstrate attentiveness, concern, and care and constitute good architectural bedside manner. Successfully employed, you will find an increase in your business (happy clients beget more clients) and a decrease in your legal risk: rarely does a satisfied client want to bring a claim against its professional.
[Too Much of a Skeptic]
Chuck Davis, FAIA is a founding partner of EHDD Architecture.
One quotation that I like is: “I am too much of a skeptic to deny the possibility of anything.” Seems very relevant to a discussion on ethics.
Originally published late 2012, in arcCA 12.1, “On Good Behavior.”
