by Kate Schwennsen, FAIA

The experience of serving as AIA president is amazing. The people I meet and the places I visit as I represent the AIA and its members are many and varied. Yet, no matter where I go, one thing is constant: architects are working to do good in this world, a world that desperately needs to have some good done.

Sri Lanka after the tsunami
Earlier this month, I flew to Sri Lanka to participate in the Sri Lanka Institute of Architects’ National Conference, a meeting also attended by the leadership of the Architects Regional Council of Asia. For an architect from this country’s heartland, Sri Lanka is about as far from Des Moines as one can get. And trust me: Getting there is not half of the fun. But even without luggage (last seen in Dayton, Ohio), it’s well worth the hike across 12 time zones. Sri Lanka, this “land of serendipity,” is a strikingly beautiful country with warm and welcoming people. It was certainly foreign to me, with three-wheeled tuk-tuks speeding down the left side of chaotic roads as beautifully sari-clad women sold coconuts and plantains from tiny road-side stalls, with a few dogs and cattle lazing on the shoulder.

After speaking on the conference theme, “National Identity in an International Context,” I listened to an address by the prime minister. In words both eloquent and compassionate, he spoke about a wide range of domestic policy issues that he described as having direct connections to architects and communities. Other participants addressed tsunami rebuilding efforts and traditional Ceylonese architecture, colonial architecture, and the threat of the loss of a unique culture and place due to the influence of westernization. In this developing nation of 19.5 million people and 600 resident architects, a nation with a history of being ruled by others, the forces of globalization bring questions of identity to the forefront.

I was struck by the fact that overarching issues of identity, comfort, shelter, security, and sustainability were being engaged by government officials with input from architects both solicited and respected. Naturally, I was especially interested to see how the profession and government of a relatively poor country were dealing with the aftereffects of the tsunami.

Although the visual effects of the devastation are apparent, they are not as dramatic as one might imagine. The low, dense jungle conceals debris. Concrete slabs are the only signs that remain of the tiny houses and villages that vanished. That said, 14 months after this natural disaster in which 30,000 Sri Lankans perished, the affected region is one continuous construction zone. Working together, architects, foundations, firms, and government agencies are getting on with rebuilding.

AIArchitect readers will recall that immediately following the disaster, the AIA offered assistance, both financial and expertise. Let me assure you that AIA members and staff who visited and offered disaster recovery and rebuilding expertise are remembered fondly by all who met them. The results of the profession’s expertise, financial donations, and compassion can be seen in the reconstruction of a village, a village populated with charming and appreciative families whom I had the great pleasure to meet.

Architects do good on the Gulf Coast
Shortly after my return to the U.S., I visited the Gulf Coast and New Orleans, places with which I am familiar. Yet the experience in many ways felt more foreign than Sri Lanka. First of all, the images on television do not convey the enormity of this disaster. Six and a half months after Katrina and Rita, there remain miles and miles and miles of destruction. Cars are upside-down, lodged under buildings in the middle of a street. Mattresses are wedged in trees. Front stoops with hand-painted addresses are the only evidence of Gulf-front homes. Dried Mississippi mud three feet deep cakes the living rooms of entire neighborhoods in New Orleans. The area devastated by these storms is equal to the size of the UK.

First Vice President RK Stewart, FAIA; AIA Executive Vice President/CEO Chris McEntee; AIA Chief Operating Officer Jim Dinegar; and I met with members of AIA Mississippi and AIA Louisiana. We wanted to hear firsthand how they’re coping, and what we, their colleagues, can and should be doing to help. Just as in Sri Lanka, the AIA’s quick response from national and local components immediately after the storm—from assisting displaced architects (whether or not they were members) to aiding displaced residents—all this and more was very much appreciated.

The AIA’s leadership in recovery efforts is just as appreciated. The Governor’s Louisiana Recovery and Rebuilding Conference in November, sponsored by the AIA, as well as other charrettes, neighborhood workshops, and conferences, have everyone talking about architecture and architects. Architects are designing visions of new unique livable communities along the Gulf. A small firm in New Orleans completed 10,000 assessments of damaged homes. AIA Mississippi organized and, with the help of regional and “foreign” volunteers, conducted more than 1,300 damage assessments. On every side, architects are doing good.

A very mixed picture develops
However, that’s only one dimension of a very mixed picture. With all the difficult work of planning and rebuilding that remains to be done, our members are hard-pressed to find enough help. When they do find new employees, they can’t locate a place for them to live. Plan review and permitting are so slow in some locales that reconstruction is severely delayed and volunteers are returning home out of frustration.

“FEMA is worthless” was a refrain we heard repeatedly. Minimum building elevations have been established in Mississippi, but at a level that many are confounded by and through a process that few if any understand. In New Orleans, FEMA has not yet publicized a minimum elevation, and many think it won’t be public until after the April mayoral election.

Underlying all these important pragmatic concerns is an issue of the heart: Rebuilding will most likely result in a different place, potentially erasing a unique culture and sense of place. Yet here in the richest country the world has ever seen, the governmental leadership, the across-the-board sense of purpose I found in Sri Lanka, has not yet emerged.

Not by architects alone . . .
Architectural Record Editor-in-Chief Robert Ivy, FAIA, has it right in his March 2006 editorial: “We cannot design ourselves out of Katrina. No matter how well intentioned we architects may be, no matter how many plans and volunteer hours we commit, the scale and complexity of this disaster exceeds the grasp of design alone . . . Our immediate response as architects always seems to be design. In this case, we should be acting to provoke leadership and keeping the pressure on our elected officials.”

By invoking our traditional means, which is design, architects can only lead so far. Teams of well-intentioned young volunteers in hazmat suits can only reconstruct so much. Without leadership at all levels of government, the devastation of these places and their residents will continue. Thus far, no one in a position of power and authority seems either willing or able to articulate a compelling vision of a preferred future, much less advance the implementation plans to get on with it.

In the midst of this kind of vacuum, a vacuum that in its way is as destructive as the eye of the most intense storm, this much is clear: Even if few architects are prepared to stand for office in our communities, all of us must nevertheless be engaged, deeply engaged as citizens. In order to do good, we need to keep the pressure on; we need to push hard for enlightened policies that protect and enhance what is treasured and unique about our communities to ensure they remain of and for people. In a world desperate for good, this is work that must be done.

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