Sapers, Carl, The Morality of Design Choices (1996).

In her essay, "Moral Architecture," in the Fall 1995 GSD News, Joan Goody tells us that
the architect's paramount obligation, like the physician's, should be: "First, do no harm."
Later, she illustrates the point by citing Zaha Hadid's deconstructionist fire station at the
Vitra Factory Campus which "stimulates and expands the mind and eye of many who pass
it and harms no one....The same design on a traditional [New England] town green might
destroy the harmony of a cherished space."
Copley Square is one of Boston's most cherished places, and the harmony of the hotel,
the library, and the church gave the city an architectural distinction envied by most other
places in America.
The immoral designer, Goody writes, ignores or disdains the effect of her building on the
lives of those it touches; the project may give the designer aesthetic pleasure at the expense
of those whose daily lives it intrudes upon.
The Hancock Tower raises issues of the morality of design choices, but in a context one
dimension more complex than the struggle Goody describes. The skilled and moral
physician pledges, first to do no harm, acknowledging that that principle should guide her
conduct as she deals with her patient who has committed his trauma, and perhaps his life,
to the physician's care. The physician does not inquire of the patient's neighbors to obtain
their approval. For most purposes, the patient is the only stakeholder whose interest the
physician pledges to uphold.
The architect's client, the project owner, comparable in many ways to the patient, is, however,
far from the only stakeholder. The users of the building and the building's neighbors have
a considerable interest in the architect's design.
While Goody writes of the possible conflict between the aesthetic ambitions of the designer
and the expectations of the community, the tension is often among the aesthetic ambitions
of the designer, the expectations of the community, and the client's program. In the story of
the design of the Hancock Tower, all three forces were pulling in different directions.
In that same issue of GSD News, the central figure in the Hancock Tower story, Harry
Cobb, wrote: "I cannot recall a single commission undertaken by my firm in the past thirty
years that has not required us to make difficult choices concerning how and to whom we
render our professional service and how and to whom the intended building will make
itself useful. These choices are difficult because the numerous constituencies whom we,
as a matter of professional responsibility, see ourselves as serving - the client institution,
the building's users, its neighbors, and so on - are often fiercely committed to widely
divergent and deeply conflicting principles....* The Hancock story breaks into four convenient
chapters. First, the Pei/Logue solution as to which, at least for a moment, all three forces
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seemed reconciled. Second, the client demanded a substantially larger footprint for the
building with the inevitable consequence that the building would now intrude more markedly
on Copley Square. Third, Pei turned over to Cobb the challenge: Solve the client's demand
while satisfying the public constraints. Fourth, Cobb's solution failed technically, and he,
nonetheless, resisted successfully the call to alter the design.
The first Pei design was deferential to Copley Square. Most would account it as a moral
design choice since it, in Joan Goody's terms, preferred the cherished square over what
may have been the more radical ambitions of the architect. In contrast with the Hancock
Tower Boston ultimately got, the first Pei design would, however, have been a rather
pedestrian solution. With its relatively conservative massing and conventional shape, its
vocabulary drew directly from Pei's prior work. Even its materials, solid masonry cladding
punctuated by a large accent of glazing, were familiar, recalling the Christian Science
Center. Clearly politically acceptable, no forces would have rallied to defeat it; but the
absence of these challenges would have also diminished the intensity of the architect's
assignment. In the face of immovable, opposing forces, Cobb rose to the occasion by
providing a revolutionary second design, crafted precisely to respond to its unique
circumstances. With this in mind, determining the relative morality of the two designs
becomes more complicated; the first was certainly the more prudential choice, for it served
to keep the opposition at bay.
The client's decision to change its program is puzzling. How could a large sophisticated
space-user have so miscalculated its requirements? None of the original decision-makers
at Hancock is alive to furnish insight into the reason for hiring Philippson and then approving
his recommendation of a fifty percent larger footprint. Is it possible that Hancock wanted,
as it were, to get its foot in the door with the prudential Pei design? With Logue, the Pei
design's sponsor in the public sector, now out of power, perhaps some of the leadership at
Hancock saw this as an opportunity to get the building they really wanted.
It is impossible to gauge motivation thirty years after the fact. But it is surely accurate to
observe that Hancock was exceedingly lucky that coincident with its demand for enhanced
space, Pei would turn the project over to his young partner, Harry Cobb. Cobb turned forty
in 1966. While he was a partner in the firm, the outside world regarded him as someone
who "worked for Pei." And while he had been raised and educated in New England, he
had no political or social influence in Boston that would facilitate obtaining community
approval. Had Pei himself remained in charge, he might have felt an obligation to fight his
client's change of heart. But young Cobb was neither so invested in the Pei solution nor so
much allied with Logue's views that he would have felt a similar obligation.
He did, however, feel keenly an obligation to the City of Boston, which had nurtured him.
That was Hancock's best piece of luck, for Cobb was determined to find a solution to
Hancock's space demand which would not scar his native city.
In his GSD News essay, Cobb wrote: "But the struggle of architecture to speak and act
within and against the embrace of [powerful institutions which commission architecture]
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has resulted in some of the most fascinating and profoundly moving manifestations of
human intelligence; it has produced buildings wherein overt allegiance to power, clear
mastery of technique, and explicit dedication to use have been subtly combined by the
architect's skill . . . [so that the buildings] challenge the conventions, the preconceptions,
and finally the very powers that brought them into being."
In Cobb's design solution, the rhomboid footprint, despite its size, gave the tower a slender
presence on Copley Square while ensuring that Trinity Church remained an isolated,
sculptural object, now even visible from Stuart Street. The reflective glazing also focused
views back on the tower's surroundings so that it would be thought of as deferential to its
neighbors, not aggressively self-centered. And the enormous dimensions of the individual
glass panes themselves removed them from the category of windows, thus making it
difficult to pinpoint the actual scale of the building. The effect of a singular sheathing was
refined by the relentless repetition of a single mullion detail -- nearly the same one for
every condition -- so that the skin of the building touched the sky the same way it touched
the ground, with complete weightlessness. Now completely abstracted into sharp,
insubstantial planes, issues such as cornice lines and height restrictions were rendered
irrelevant.
The technology required to achieve this innovation was absolutely new. The research and
experimentation it demanded achieved nothing less than a worldwide revolution in curtainwall design. In a sense, his design choice, his application of incredible aesthetic skills,
resolved the tension between the client's demand and the community's expectations. Or
at least his solution satisfied enough of the community's expectations as to win over the
public officials who could have prevented the project from going forward.
The last chapter of the Hancock story posed a wholly unexpected challenge to the architect.
When the windows failed, the conventional wisdom was that more modestly sized glass
panels would be the easiest fix. But the large scale of the glazing was, in Cobb's judgment,
a critical design detail which, taken together with the footprint, made the building enhance
rather than destroy Copley Square. If the client ordered a change in that detail, the Cobb
design solution would be undermined, and all of those whom Cobb had persuaded to
accept the Hancock Tower would be hung out to dry. He had the architect's moral imperative
to hold to this design choice and the leader's moral imperative not to abandon those
principles by which he gathered and inspired his supporters. Cobb, now vilified by his
employers, nonetheless insisted that the Hancock Board remain faithful to the glass wall
design when they set about to repair the technical failure. Remarkably, the Hancock Board
in the end agreed.
The injunction to the physician: First, to do no harm, speaks to a simpler circumstance.
The physician's
paramount duty is to her patient. The architect's field of practice involves greater complexity;
the public is invariably implicated in the architect's design choices. The building may be
owned by the client, but it will be used by many people with whom the architect has never
exchanged a word. Their lives, for example the lives of schoolchildren in a school building,
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may be profoundly affected by the architect's design choices. The neighbors who surround
the building may also be deeply affected by the shape and character of the building. No
architect may follow his client's wishes faithfully without taking these other forces into
account.
The laws governing the professional conduct of architects recognize that there are
obligations beyond, and conceivably in conflict with, the architect's loyalty to the client. For
example, consider Rule 3.3 of the Rules of Conduct published by the National Council of
Architectural Registration Boards and adopted by a majority of American jurisdictions: 3.3
If in the course of his or her work on a project, an architect becomes aware of a decision
taken by his or her employer or client, against the architect's advice, which violates
applicable state or municipal building laws and regulations and which will, in the architect's
judgment, materially affect adversely the safety to the public of the finished project, the
architect shall,
(i) report the decision to the local building inspector or other public official charged with the
enforcement of the applicable state or municipal building laws and regulations,
(ii) refuse to consent to the decision, and
(iii) in circumstances where the architect reasonably believes that other such decisions
will be taken notwithstanding his/her objection, terminate his/her services with reference
to the project.
In the case of a termination in accordance with clause (iii), the architect shall have no
liability to his or her client or employer on account of such termination.

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COMMENTARY
This rule holds the architect to the same standard of independence which has been applied
to lawyers and accountants. In the circumstances described, the architect is compelled to
report the matter to a public official even though to do so may substantially harm the
architect's client. Note that the circumstances are a violation of building laws which adversely
affect the safety to the public of the finished project. While a proposed technical violation
of building laws (e.g., a violation which does not affect the public safety) will cause a
responsible architect to take action to oppose its implementation, the Committee specifically
does not make such a proposed violation trigger the provisions of this rule. The rule
specifically intends to exclude safety problems during the course of construction which
are traditionally the obligation of the contractor. There is no intent here to create a liability
for the architect in this area. Clause (iii) gives the architect the obligation to terminate his
or her services if he or she has clearly lost professional control. The standard is that the
architect reasonably believes that other such decisions will be taken notwithstanding his
or her objection. The rule goes on to provide that the architect shall not be liable for a
termination made pursuant to clause (iii). Such an exemption from contract liability is
necessary if the architect is to be free to refuse to participate on a project in which such
decisions are being made.
As is noted in the Commentary, Rule 3.3 applies only when the safety of the public is in
jeopardy. But similar principles ought to be considered by the architect in making design
choices which do not implicate the public safety The architect must consider and balance
in some sensible way the competing expectations of the client, the building's users, and
the community, as well as her own view of how best to design the building. The architect,
it has been said, should prefer her client's interest over her own and, where the issues are
clear, the public interest over both. While the particular circumstances will always contribute
to how these questions are resolved, that hierarchy of imperatives is a useful one to guide
your conduct.

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