So, lately I've been thinking about the University of Lethbridge. Not about the courses or the profs or the bad food in the cafeteria, but about the building itself. In case you don't know, this fascinating building was designed by Arthur Erickson in the late 60s, and built into the hillside of the river valley that runs through Lethbridge, Alberta. In designing the building, Erickson dispensed with anything that one might find on a traditional "campus." No sprawling greens, no cricket pitch, no courtyards or neo-gothic clock tower. Nothing remotely collegiate. Just a concrete monolith set into a hill. Inside the cavernous structure we find everything necessary for the academic life: classrooms, labs, lecture halls; a library. In the same building: residences, admin offices, a cafeteria, and so on...
Yes, the edifice is huge. It is long and narrow - a modern-day Noah's Arc sitting high and dry above the flood-prone Oldman River. In the 30 years since its construction, the original building has been outgrown, with new buildings springing up willy-nilly at the prairie level with such breathtaking lack of regard for the design of the original structure that Mr. Erickson himself is rumored to have disowned it altogether. Oh well...
But let's step back for a moment, shall we, and look deeper into the semiotics of the structure. What I find most fascinating about the U of L is what is says about academia and the world of knowledge. First, I think it no accident that Erickson put everything into one big building. Here we have the social sciences rubbing shoulders with mathematics. Psychologists sharing a hallway with geographers. Tidy management drones consorting with philosophy profs who never quite learned how to dress. It's Erickson's modern utopia - a manifestation of the Great Unified Theory, set in concrete and rebar. A prominent (if somewhat angular and unadorned) celebration of 400 years of human progress. All the Knowledge of Humankind gathered together under one roof - for the Betterment of the Species! "Indeed," the building says in all seriousness, "any distinction you may be tempted to draw between the disciplines is illusiory at best - and possibly detrimental to society." No, knowledge is a unit that cannot be broken down - not without abandoning the hope that we have placed in the human mind. Knowledge is a prime number. It cannot be divided.
And so, students entering the doors all fresh-faced and naive spend four years inside knowledge itself, only to emerge with a solid faith in Progress and Modernity. For the U of L is a thoroughly modern building. We might even call it a Temple of Modernity, so completely does it embody the modern ethos.
And that is why it is doomed. That is why it is in the process of self-destructing. And I'm not talking about the fact that it's slowly sliding into the river. I'm talking about the proliferation of buildings that have sprung up to supplement, in a most Derridian sense, the shortcomings of the original structure. You see, Erickson built his Temple on a myth. Even in the 1960s, the sands were shifting. Think of the Paris riots of 1968; the Vietnam war. "Progress" did not prove to be a firm foundation upon which to build a society, let alone a university building. In designing the U of L, Erickson forgot to account for the humanity of humans - their messy ways and irrational thoughts. Modernity was dying even as Erickson was trying to build it a tabernacle.
But fear not, Mr. Erickson, for fallible humanity is more than able to put your tomb of knowledge to good use, despite your best efforts!
