Once when I met with a group of university architects from Canada and the US, we marveled at the beauty of the campus and the apparent coherence of the values that had shaped its design for more than a century.

The campus had come through the middle decades of twentieth century without either the brutalism or simplistic excesses of modernism.  Historic spaces had been preserved and strengthened.  Scale had been respected.  Connections had been maintained and improved.  All in all it was a place that showed the effects of care and deep stewardship over an extended period of time.

As we prepared for a presentation on repairing the ravages of the twentieth century on other campuses throughout North America, the metaphor of the well-tended garden was not sufficient.  Instead, we found ourselves thinking of the University Architect as a physician with a single patient.  We all agreed that this particular patient had been well cared for and was in exceedingly good health.

The resident University Architect thoughtfully observed that such health is fragile.  It depends on a fabric of shared values and commitments that can become frayed, if not unraveled, in fairly short order.

Only a few years later, that process of fraying has begun.  It is not a unique story.  At one pole, the campus is regarded as merely a collection of objects and infrastructure to be used in an increasingly cost effective manner.  Additions and adaptations are to be made as quickly and cheaply as possible.  Long-term consequences receive little attention, and short-term value is maximized.

At the other pole is a perspective that places more value in long-term consequences, whether measured in terms of lifecycle costing or professional judgment.  This view of the campus as embodied history – environmentally responsible and forming a whole that is greater than the sum of the parts – might be seen as quaint if not simply wrong-headed.

If these two attitudes in their purest forms describe the limits of a pendulum swing, few institutions have sustained a long period at one high point of the arc.  The school where my group met is now swinging in a new direction.

The signs are seen first in a “changing of the guard.”  First, there are changes in institutional leadership, both in the board and executive administration.  Then there are changes in the organization that diminish the standing of design professionals in deference to politically well connected functionaries, with no yardstick available other than the lowest first cost.

When hamburger is purchased by the pound, does it really matter if the fat content is less than 5% or more than 40%?  Dieticians say it matters.  If dieticians have no voice, it does not matter.

Campuses are not hamburger, and university architects are not dieticians, but listening to and valuing the opinions of university architects has created campuses of quality and high regard.  Some institutions are now in danger of squandering that inheritance – if not through willful disregard, then through benign neglect.

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