Responsibility Schmonsibility
I don’t think you would find anyone in our class who would
say that architecture does not have a social responsibility. We are all aware that as a profession,
architecture has a more significant impact than those in other disciplines
would initially believe on the way our societies, neighborhoods, communities,
and daily life is shaped. This effect
may have been intentional, carefully designed and planned by a group of architects,
developers, or city planners, or it could have been a total accident – brought about
by competing individual desires, with the average user of the space
disregarded. Soja and Till warn us to be
conscientious about the decisions we make regarding the user groups of our
designs. Do they encourage democracy (a
sense of ownership and participation)? Do they allow equal access and
opportunity? We all believe architecture
has a social responsibility. Yet after
reading the texts and my peers’ blog posts, there is an equally overwhelming
amount of dissonance of what that social responsibility consists.
In some senses, I do not believe we have as much power as
designers as we think (or wish) we have.
Regarding the flight from the city, architects could have refused to
build sprawling subdivisions, ignoring the wishes of veterans returning home to
follow their version of the “American Dream”.
Architects could refuse to do upscale building renovations in
neighborhoods with lower incomes, knowing that it will drive up property values
and eventually force the economically-vulnerable population somewhere
else. (I realize that these situations
are not binary, that there exists some middle ground, but this point exists
nonetheless to show how arrogant some of these stances are – that we as
architects know what is best for society).
Yes, we should be advocates of social responsibility, yet there is just
as much danger resulting from a misplaced belief in thinking we can ‘fix’
society as there is in unflinching obedience to whatever brings money to our
offices.
Personally, two striking examples come to mind regarding
spatial (in)equality, and while I’m sure there could be better examples, these
two will suffice. The first is a gated
neighborhood in a suburb. Not only does
one need a car to travel there, but once one arrives, they need a security code
to enter. Yes it is annoying for those
trying to visit, yet it is also completely within their right to have such a
neighborhood. I don’t pretend to have
equal rights to their property, and as much as I would like to drive down the
street, I understand the private nature.
That’s fine. Honestly, I can’t
think of many people who are upset about not being able to enter wealthy
neighborhoods. The other instance is a public park, such as Central Park. In the midst of one of the most exclusive,
expensive locations in the world, this park is open and accessible to everyone,
regardless of beliefs, income, or race.
It’s part of what makes Central Park so special. Yet it would be foolish to think that just
because everyone can experience Central Park, everyone should be able to
experience full use of the financial district a mile south. I’d much rather enjoy the park anyway.
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