Critical Conversations on
Architecture & Human Rights

Stories are what we use to transmit knowledge. They give meaning to our lives. I immersed myself into the stories of these dispossessed people and I quickly came to see that architecture grows out of everyday experiences more often than we realize. What I want to relate here is that architecture offers a critical and ethical arena in which different kinds of knowledge can be generated and exchanged. At its simplest, architecture is about facilitating a range of different voices to articulate the change they want to bring to their neighborhoods and their cities.

However, it’s not enough just to tell a story. Though powerful, a story needs to do more than just communicate how its tellers live. It must transform this narrative into an acknowledged right to exist. How would architecture bring our stories to life and affirm our right to exist? Our understanding begins with a story but doesn’t end there. The information collected and reported are useful and usable to change how we design and how we improve our approaches and outcomes. There is always a better way out that we can try instead. 

I find an Addis Ababa in every city I go to.

If the conversations in this book had not taken place, the silence in their place would have been filled with our indifference. Instead these stories have galvanized many of us working in architecture to bridge the discontented worlds of planning, commerce, culture, politics, and community-building.

These conversations remind us that overcoming the deteriorating conditions in the fabric of our cities is the challenge that will determine the future success of architecture. We are in the midst of a worldwide decline in international human rights. Turbulent and authoritarian urban planning like that of Addis Ababa force thousands of households into a choice between abiding by the rule of the market or moving elsewhere: I want to drill down again on the premise that Addis Ababa is everywhere and the future of all our cities now depends on how we approach the cities and the citizens of the Global South.

 
 
 

Addis Ababa 
Citizens’ Conversations 

 

AGOSH

Her beauty is stunning. It leaves you breathless and at the same time her presence gives you a sense of rest and peace.

 

BELECHA 

Belecha is a slender woman. She accompanies her words with up-and-down movements of her head and shoulders. By contrast her hands are big as if they do not belong to her and she has borrowed someone else’s.

 

NIGUSSE 

Watching his own hands moving methodically seems to calm his thoughts.

 

HIWOT 

She is more afraid of the alien word ‘eviction’ than of moving far away.

 

HEMBET 

She smiles like a trapped squirrel. It is so difficult for her to speak and thus so generous of her to let me interview her.

 

ZEWDE 

I am still moved by the sobbing of Zewde. The thin, contagious sobbing of a 17-year-old girl.

 
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Durban
Architects’ Conversations

 

EDGAR

He wears eyeglasses with thick, yellow plastic frames. He could only be an architect.

 

MONICA

Her iPod earbuds are firmly in place even when she is speaking.

 

NOOLEN

Her eyes smiling, she talks rapidly, so fast that you can be caught up in the motion of her coming thoughts.

 

VICTOR

Legs crossed and eyes opened, his back upright; he is the stray waiting for the coming challenge.

 

GERHARD

His eyes click while the mind scans the list of options that appear for answering.

 

ALVAR

You can tell his critical mind from the non-stereotyped, non-urban, chic architect’s look on his intelligent and bitter face.

 
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Dakota
The Sioux’s Conversations

 

Benjamin

His eyes are large and black and he wears an unseasonably short-sleeved, open neck white shirt.