Today,
I resigned from the Register of Architects.
Thirty years ago, almost to the day, I sat in
on a council meeting of the then Architects Registration Council of the United
Kingdom (ARCUK). I was a
journalist and junior editor working on the Architects Journal, and I was sent
to sniff around the meeting to catch any news.
Well,
there was momentous news - at least for me. By a coincidence, one of the items on the agenda was the
admission of a bunch of new architects to the Register, and my name was on
it. I guess I might easily be the
only architect ever in this country to actually watch myself becoming one.
For
readers who aren't familiar with the arcane procedures concerning architectural
qualifications and registration, let me summarise: the term 'architect' has been protected since the 1930s,
which means that the only people allowed by law to describe themselves as
architects are those who have been through a whole heap of training, and who
are allowed to be on this Register.
The Register is kept by an official government-sanctioned body which
oversees the standards of education for architects. I should also point out that the Royal Institute of
British Architects (RIBA) has no statutory role in this process whatsoever; it
is a private club that exists solely to serve the interests of its members (all
of whom must be registered architects). I am interested in architecture, not in architects, and a posh club is no place for me. I don't think it should be taken
that seriously at all.
So
there I was, after 5 years at college and a couple more in an office - a fully
qualified architect, and able to describe myself as such. I wrote an article in the Architects
Journal at the time*, describing what it was like to go through all this college
training. In short, it was
brilliant fun: Kingston's architecture school was in the art department, and
that - as every sensible person knows - is exactly where schools of
architecture belong. We were
caught up in all the philosophical debates of the time, and it was a real
privilege to be amongst some of the most stimulating people I have ever
known. I made up my mind that my
future would be in this sort of environment, and after a few years working 'in
practice', I would return to architecture school to teach.
So
I did work in practice - for ten years, to the day. I was inspired to work in the public sector, out of a clear
conviction that architecture had to be a public service. That brought me into headlong collision
with the forces of Thatcher, and I was abolished whilst working for the Greater
London Council on some politically very sensitive housing work at Coin Street,
near Waterloo. I have, from
hard-won first-hand experience, a certainty that architecture, by and large -
and certainly as promoted by the RIBA - is conservative by nature; it feeds
itself off fee income, and is naturally skewed in favour of the big and the
brash, especially now that the public sector no longer exists.
After
leaving the public sector I did return to a university as a teacher and
professor, and this has been my very happy occupation ever since. But throughout all this time - for
thirty years - I have remained on the Register. Each year I have paid the requisite fee to keep my name on
it, and up until this very moment you could see me there on their website: Thom Gorst. 049434H. For
this I paid in today's prices nearly £100 every year, which accumulates to a
good second-hand motor over 30 years.
I
have been immensely proud to have been an architect, and during those 30 years
I have worked centrally in the profession: I have chaired inspection boards to
universities to ensure that their standards were up to scratch; I have examined
the credentials of people wanting to join the Register; I have contributed to
it all - partly out of genuine interest, and partly out of a sense that it
might get me somewhere. Let's be
honest, nobody on the committee circuit of professional politics is doing it
out of a sense of social service.
That's the trouble with architects - they think the world is a better
place because of them. They
genuinely do!
I
do not believe for one minute that the world is best served by protecting the
term 'architect', and I do not believe for one more minute that social interest
is served by the existence of the RIBA.
When
you go to university to study French, does the French government oversee the
course? - when you go to university to study music theory, does the Central
Committee of Pianists oversee the course?
Why, then, should some self-interest club seek to influence and control
architectural education? The
subject's just too important to be left to them: the quality and politics of
the built environment is key to civic living. How can an organisation like the RIBA whose members get paid
on the basis of the value of buildings they produce claim any right to hegemony
over civic aesthetics?
Everybody
is, of course, an architect. The
authorities no longer have the strength to police their rules - so we are all
architects, if we want to be! Five
years training!
Take
a look at the commercial development in the centre of a town like Slough to see
what you get from people who have to train for five years!
We
are all qualified to say whatever we want about buildings. You don't need to be an expert to have
an opinion, and - take it from me
- so called 'experts' in architecture sometimes have bizarrely arrogant
opinions.
Being
an architect has helped pay for a home, support a family and keep me in very
stylish clothes, so I am grateful for it.
But it is a blessed relief not to have to pretend to believe in it any
more.
Your
relieved friend,
An
Architect
*I published the article Sweet Dreams in the Architects Journal on 22 July 1981,
p149.
Thom,
ReplyDeleteThis is an extremely enlightening and eye opening article which elaborates on points which you have touched on during several previous lectures - the real value of the term 'architect'.
Despite my ongoing personal engagement in the education of this subject, I can't help but agree with you in every sense. Thank you, this was a refreshing read and perspective.