The Limits of Criticism

“You’d be hard-pressed not to like the new $450 million Theodore Roosevelt Presidential Library.” So begins the glowing review of Snohetta’s latest work written by perennial architectural optimist Michael Kimmelman of the New York Times. Unfortunately for him, it was quite easy for me to find many things not to like.

I’ll start with something I do like: the design is pleasing to the eyes. The curved rammed-earth walls and geometric wood ceiling are a nice play on the ecology of the area. And overall the building sits relatively modestly in the site, important given the low-lying expanse of this area of North Dakota.

If one remains there, that is looking at the building as an object, it is a success. I’m sure it will win awards. But buildings are much more than that, and today’s criticism is still trapped in the tendency to treat architecture like art instead of a complex web of ecology, economics, history, and labor.

This last point is especially important given the fact the firm responsible for the design of the building, Snohetta, is currently involved in hearings with the NLRB having been accused of firing employees who tried to form a union. No where is this mentioned by Kimmelman (even though it was reported on by his newspaper). Instead, we get yet another dose of the mythology of the creative genius. In particular, Kimmelman shares an anecdote about Craig Dykers, the principal of Snohetta, finding Zen-like inspiration in the vast empty (for now) plateau. What we don’t hear about is his employees - the ones who really made the project possible - simultaneously toiling away in the studio with an impending expiration date on their employment.

As far as the ecology claims, I’m skeptical to say the least. There are interesting components like the Native Plant Project which will help conservation efforts in the area. Surely building a massive building the size of a football stadium can’t help with this effort though. It may “reflect the landscape”, but I have a feeling leaving it alone would have been more helpful. I think Teddy might agree, as the approach of conservation was at the heart of the National Parks Movement. Or using even half of the $450 million for real conservation and restoration efforts could have helped. Probably a good idea given the state of the air quality in the region lately.

And yes, the walls are made of earth, and many are covered in green roofs, but an analysis of the carbon generated in the construction of this building would surely offset any of the other environmental claims. Shipping the building materials alone must have generated tons of carbon. Not to mention the thousands of new visitors the site will draw in their cars. The whole thing smells of greenwashing.

What about the economics? I can think of several other things that would $450 million dollars would be better spent on. Sure, it was mostly private donations, but the arrangement is just another sign of our sick dependence on philanthropy by the ultra-wealthy to build anything of significance in this country. It’s also problematic in the sense that major decisions like these are becoming less and less democratic, with those who have money buying access and influence. Ironic considering who this library is honoring.

Kimmelman, like many architectural critics, is not a trained architect. If he were his writing might be more like the late-great Michael Sorkin, who spared no words eviscerating his architectural contemporaries when they betrayed the spirit of the profession. But Kimmelman is a trained historian, and I would expect more here regarding the president for who this building was built.

While he touches a bit on the history, Kimmelman barely nods to Teddy Roosevelt’s past as a key figure in the progressive movement. What would Teddy have thought if his library had been designed by a firm credibly accused of union busting? Considering the focus of his administration, I think he would have had a few issues.

Theodore Roosevelt was a complicated figure to say the least, also known for his imperialist gallivanting and racist worldview. But central to Roosevelt’s emerging presidency in 1901 was the “Square Deal”, a pillar of progressive policies that sought to reign in rampant corporations that were degrading the quality of life for everyday people. While Roosevelt wasn’t the champion of working class causes like his distant cousin FDR, many of these policies paved the ground for what would be achieved later by the New Deal.

The Square Deal focused on three primary areas: corporate regulation, consumer protection, and conservation of natural resources. Through this program, Roosevelt attempted to strike a balance between the needs of corporations and people, a far cry from the bold program of the New Deal. But its tenets were certainly concerned with rebalancing power in the United States:

Treat each man according to his worth as a man. Don’t hold for or against him that he is either rich or poor. But if he is rich and crooked, hold it against him; if not rich but crooked, then hold it against him. But if he is a square man, stand by him.

Roosevelt embodied the best parts of this ethos when intervening on behalf of striking workers in the anthracite coal strike settlement of 1902, helping them to win a 10% wage increase and shorter working hours. It can also be seen in his administration’s willingness to tackle runaway capitalism through using government regulated railroad rates.

In the era of muckraking journalism and corporate reforms that followed Teddy’s presidency, many important steps were taken in protecting the rights of workers. Secretary of Commerce and Labor Charles Nagel had these issues at the top of his mind during an industrial safety conference in 1911 as he emphasized that when it comes to worker safety, “it takes the government to establish the rules of the game.”

On this front, Teddy would arguably be concerned with the claims of conservation by the new library. But he would undoubtedly have been troubled by its designers attempts to discourage their employees from claiming their rights to organize. Unions operate in the spirit of the Square Deal, seeking to balance the needs of management and workers. Companies tend to see them as threats, but the reality is at-will employment isn’t democracy, it’s dictatorship. Unfortunately, Snohetta’s record on this front leaves a permanent stain on the new space.

These are the questions I have for the discipline. Unfortunately, for what passes as acceptable discourse, topics like these will never be breached. As far back as the 1980s Sorkin echoed a similar sentiment in a review of a visit to Las Vegas and the surrounding military bases for the Village Voice:

Writing this column gets harder and hard for me. The reason, I think, is that so much architecture - especially in the city - has become like so much bomb design. Appreciating it formally demands that the terms of the discussion be totally hemmed, that the question of effects be trivialized.

When it comes to reviews of buildings, we smile, nod, pat firms like this and the billionaire donors who make it possible all on the back, and will probably hand out some awards too, all while data centers near and far suck water and energy from the landscape to power a holographic version of Teddy. We bury the inconvenient history, lauding the shiny objects in front of us without understanding their cost, both in terms of what is being used but what is being forgotten. And for the employees who lost their jobs while this building was being designed, it will be difficult for them to associate much positive with it.

It begs the question: what’s the point of criticism? I’m still waiting for the answer.

Share