Race, Class and Confidence: Architecture Needs a Bigger Tent

Read Richard’s original article on Building Design.

The lack of racial diversity on Southwark’s ‘inclusive’ framework is a symptom of a wider problem, writes Richard Gatti, whose YAYA-winning small practice was one of the successful firms

The new Southwark framework has come in for a lot of criticism: particularly with regards to the number of practices run by black architects (spoiler: none). While the framework, run by LHC and the London Borough of Southwark, will be available to all public sector bodies within London, Southwark itself is over 25% black.

In fact, nearly all of the principals of practices on the framework look a bit like me – that is white, male and most likely middle class.

That’s pretty shocking for a profession that leans left and on the whole considers itself inclusive. And it takes us beyond just race: while race is important, the gender disparity is still on display, 120 years after the RIBA first admitted women. Issues of disability and sexual/gender identity are less discussed and, as with class, harder to discern from a name and a photograph.

But I don’t think the issue lies with the Southwark framework. Indeed LHC and LB Southwark went out of their way to ensure smaller, less well-established practices could be included (which is how my practice, Gatti Routh Rhodes, made it on to the list), and selection panels were representative of the borough (indeed were majority non-white). Diversity and social inclusion are selection criteria within the framework. So, short of affirmative action as recently undertaken by Brick by Brick for example, I don’t think there is much more Southwark could have done – though clearly the results don’t support that conclusion.

Rather, I think the challenge lies with the wider profession. In a piece on the case the Guardian spoke to black-owned practices who stood up to say, “Yes, we exist, we just weren’t selected.”

To my shame, I hadn’t heard of many of them. I can think of a handful of practices led by women, few led by BAME colleagues (and fewer still by black architects) and only one where a principal is disabled.

I think that there are wider societal issues at play here. I don’t know why BAME-led practices don’t get more work, or more recognition from the architectural press (though those two issues are clearly related). But it does seem to me that a disproportionate number of practices that start up are led by people like me – and that means the “tent” of available talent is too small. Why might that be?

From Gatti Routh Rhodes’ perspective, we couldn’t have started the practice without the financial security that came from our parents’ (solidly middle class) backgrounds. They didn’t fund us starting up – but knowing that there was an ultimate (if embarrassing) fall back certainly helped us to take the plunge. As an emerging practice, with no reputation to build on, we relied on our networks to find work. Again, being middle class is helpful here, in terms of knowing people who might just be wealthy enough to afford an extension or a rearrangement of their house. And while class, like many of these categories, is tricky and hard to define, there is a significant overlap between issues of race and class, as tracked for example by the Runnymede Trust.

Going forwards, the issue of the cost of tuition will only serve to reinforce the idea of architecture as a middle-class profession.

There is also a question of confidence, some of which derives from financial security. It’s hard for me, as a member of a privileged group, to understand what not having a role model means – most of the architects I admire are in some ways like me. The female architect I know best, Stefanie (Rhodes), has talked unashamedly about her challenges with confidence. Stefanie tells me that she had been considering starting a practice before I asked her to join me, but felt she lacked both experience and social capital to do so. In reality her social networks are wider and more diverse than mine and she graduated a year earlier than me.

My confidence derives from my upbringing. Confidence to be wrong, accept that I’m wrong, and try again. Confidence to write an article about diversity from a position of privilege and, yes, quite possibly get it wrong. I’ve been encouraged to try things, to take risks. I generally consider standing out from the crowd to be a good thing, whereas BAME colleagues tell me there is more of an emphasis for them on not sticking their heads above the parapet.

I don’t know how it feels to weather countless micro aggressions – it’s simply not been my experience. But I can imagine that it would sap my confidence, and with it my willingness to take a risk – such as setting up a practice.

These are bigger, more fundamental cultural issues than I, as a principal of a small practice and a sometime lecturer, can deal with – indeed, to some extent, these issues are bigger than architecture as a whole. But that doesn’t mean we are impotent.

As a small practice, we do some simple things. We don’t take unpaid interns. We try and maintain a reasonable work-life balance. For example the partners work four days a week which facilitates childcare.

We have just recruited – a new part II, which we’re excited about and brings us to six members of staff. Our advert included the words: “We actively welcome applicants from under-represented groups in the profession.” We shortlisted on merit and, of the five shortlisted applicants, only one was white and male – evidence, from a small sample size, that the talent is out there.

Until the pandemic hit, we hosted RMP Projects in our studio, a new practice run by a woman, Rachel Mills Powell. In exchange for four days a month of work, we gave Rachel studio space, mentoring and advice, and tried to help her avoid the mistakes we made when we started up, as well as giving her practical work experience. Rachel’s flown the nest now – she has her own studio space, and staff, but once we have a vaccine I think this is something we’d been keen to explore again. Similarly, we’re hoping to work with London Metropolitan University’s Practice Placement Scheme this year, which aims to give third-year students, in particular those from disadvantaged backgrounds, a taste of studio work.

Like a lot of small practices, we teach. Tom and I run a course at the London Met and Stefanie is involved with both the Arb and the RIBA’s educational frameworks. We can be mindful of diversity in these situations – not just in how we teach, but in who we invite to lecture alongside us.

None of these things will solve the challenges set before us. But they are, I believe, positive contributions we can make to enlarging the tent – and ones which benefit our studio and our practice in both the short and long term.