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One Reasonable Voice

Tales from the battleground that is architectural education.

Evan Spence | 2002-07-23

The Dalhousie School of Architecture was recently looking for a new director. Our dearly beloved current director, Jacques Rousseau, is returning to his practice in Montreal at the end of July. He leaves behind a reputable school of architecture in the midst of making several adjustments to its two degree programmes.

For reasons of efficiency, the search for a new director was decided to be internal only, so that these already agreed-upon changes to the programmes can be shepherded forward without too much disruption. A smooth succession in leadership was desired.

Only one candidate, Steven Mannell, a construction/technology and design prof, announced his desire to take the position. Sounds like this should have been a pretty easy yes or no vote, doesn’t it? But remember, the School of Architecture is a respectably large organization, so it comes with its fair share of organizational disfunction.

This wouldn’t be much of a tale, if it weren’t for the strange fact that I wound up on the director search committee. I really can’t even explain my reasons for accepting the position. It happened quite quickly, during what must have been a moment of weakness. Perhaps I had been up all night drawing.

The president of the Architecture Students Association (ASA) approached me after the committee had already convened, to replace a Masters student, who was withdrawing due to thesis-related time constraints. Feeling both a little flushed at the compliment of being asked to participate, and pleased at the prospect of helping to ensure a desirable outcome, I accepted.

Things were pretty pedestrian from there. The committee met once, the candidate presented his vision for the school, and interviews were conducted with the student body.

Although I had a fairly clear decision already outlined in my head, nothing I saw or heard in the intervening weeks lead me to believe that Mannell would be anything but a first-rate director. As I knew from my construction lectures, Steve espouses a building-oriented approach to architectural education. That’s building as a verb, as in “making”. That means large-scale models with an emphasis on the craft of their assembly. Steve also has a consistent philosophical back story he intersperses into his lectures, which oscillate deliciously between construction principles and building epistemology. In short, his courses rock, and the proof can be seen every spring at 1:5 scale on the front lawn of the school.

There is an argument that good professorship does not necessarily translate into good administrative skills. While certainly true, Mannell’s lack of experience as a director cannot disqualify him. His proven organizational capabilities further disprove this point.

So I thought this was going to be a pretty straightforward process. If the committee decided yes, we would get a new director. If the committee voted no, the school would begin the much lengthier process of finding a director through an external search. In either event, it would not be the end of the world.

Then an incredible series of events happened.

A certain subset of the student population began to make it known that they were dissatisfied with the prospect of Mannell as Director. This was to have been expected, but problems arose in how their displeasure should have been reflected in the committee meetings. There are over two hundred students at the school, and only four students were on the committee. And one of them me, which automatically raised philosophical problems, unbeknownst to my fellow committee members.

Some students wanted to hold a vote, which seemed totally meaningless to me: how could we reflect the breakdown of a vote among the student body, with only four seats? Round up, round down, or just hope the ratio fits evenly into four?

I argued from the start that membership in a committee did not imply a democratic process. This immediately got me into trouble. Students with agendas (but apparently without the time or inclination to sit on the decision making body) don’t want you to sit across from them, shrug, and say “This isn’t a democracy.”

My reasoning was entirely ignored in these melees, which is why I’m putting it down here. Here I don’t have to shout to be heard, and no one can verbally interject their package-dealing demands.

I was on the director search committee not as a student representative, but as a representative student. The distinction is important, and not because I think the student body doesn’t deserve a say. The key is, it is impossible for an individual to accurately reflect the will and inclination of a group of people. He can only reflect himself.

In order for someone to be truly representative in the fashion the dissident students were demanding, a so-called representative would have to completely suppress any personal conclusions he had drawn. As a representative, his only moral position would be those positions given to him by others. He would not be allowed to question them, or to apply some form of reasoning to the decisions. He must remain devoid of cognitive activity, and “submit to the will of the people.” In short, he can’t think.

If that were actually the role of the student members on the committee, we all could have been replaced with very small PERL scripts.

I contended that we were there to be more than hollow vessels. My intention was to evaluate all of the discussions going on through the school, and to make my decision, on behalf of the students, based on my own reasoned conclusions. It’s simply the difference between being a politician, and being a leader. As a safeguard, I knew that I planned to be a student for the next three years at Dal, so any decision I made in my own selfish self interest must also reflect the interests of the other students.

Obviously this last statement was also hotly contested. Apparently, to be a real representative requires a complete repudiation of the self. “Selfish” is another word the crusaders don’t want to hear. (I should know better than to use such an obvious trigger word, but I wasn’t exactly aiming to bring the argument to a happy conclusion then.)

All of this wouldn’t have been so aggravating, if I could have heard and thereby evaluated some of the arguments against Mannell. The problem was, there was apparently some terrible, horrible, hairy list of Steve’s sins somewhere, but it wasn’t available for widespread scrutiny. All I ever heard were rumours about his behaviour during tenure reviews, and meaningless complaints that he was an “egotist.” I was being asked to accept a raft of unknown, faceless reasons not to have Mannell as a director, and to suppress my own reasoning in a selfless act of “representation.”

Well that didn’t sound likely.

We briefly came to an agreement to abstain from the vote entirely, which would leave the decision firmly in the hands of the faculty members, which were deeply divided on the issue. Since a two-thirds majority was required, this would require a large show of support from Steve’s colleagues. The students would be sending a message that, if he didn’t have broad faculty support, he wouldn’t be able to do his job effectively anyway, and was therefore unacceptable as a candidate in any case.

I was actually okay with sending that message, even though it probably decreased the likelihood of Mannell becoming Director.

After we had this messy argument, I mentioned to two of my fellow committee members that I needn’t be asked to participate on any more school committees. I explained that I couldn’t possibly live my life for anyone else. Their response is what shocked me the most about this entire scenario.

First I was told to “be quiet about that.” Then I heard that they couldn’t believe I had said these things in our meeting: I was supposed to be representing the students.

I paused, then walked away in stunned silence.

I guess I was alone as the only one around who took principles seriously. Everyone else seemed to be stuck in the throes of appearing bizarrely and falsely democratic. I could do that too, if I wanted to stop thinking entirely, let myself be lead to the committee meeting, wear a diaper and a bib to keep from soiling myself, and perform the role of a biped meat-automaton. I could vote the will of the student population: part of me one way, and part of me the other way. I could rend myself into two pieces in front of the committee, because that would be what was required: total self-immolation, and subsequent self-destruction. That’s the result they wanted, right? It was certainly what they were demanding.

Eventually, the urge of the students to hold some sort of vote was too strong, and the ASA president sent out an email ballot. The results came back strongly in favour of Mannell, by a two-to-one margin. But what were we supposed to do with these results? Have three vote for, and one vote against? Have two of us vote for, and two of us against? Neither ratios were representative of the split. I suggested we adopt an American electoral college approach, and give all of our votes to the majority winner. Like Florida did last election. But it hardly seemed fair to just make up these arbitrary rules.

Nice situation. Very democratic. In the end I voted my conscience, exactly like I said at the start. Others could defend my decision as representative of the student population, but I didn’t feel the need to. This is why I’ll never run for elected office. It’s also why I sleep soundly at night, knowing I’ve made consistently rational decisions for myself.

I began to see the vote as a referendum on reason in the School of Architecture. Would the qualified candidate be accepted, or would the unknown, indescribable list from the detractors somehow impress itself on the committee, without open arguments, stated reasons or actual cognition? I began to see the vote as a determinant of whether I wanted to be around for my masters degree at this school.

The results were close. So close in fact, that the chairman had to break the precise two-thirds majority tie. (Was a yes two-thirds, or two-thirds plus one? We weren’t sure.)

So the right man won, but the tightness of the decision, and the school’s complete disregard for issues of philosophical significance have only underscored the importance I have placed on my principles, and my stand for reason.

Evan Spence

Tuesday, July 22, 2002
PD DLVII

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