The art of state buildings

In recent decades, the Gulf monarchies have expressed a desire to acquire that which gives a face to civilization: monumental architecture. Yet, are they truly following in the footsteps of figures such as Augustus, Suleiman the Magnificent or Napoleon III, who built the state with the stone of palaces, theaters and houses of worship? That is far from certain.

The race for “landmarks” marked an opening move: it allowed them to capture an international audience and assert themselves as a dynamic cultural space on the global economic stage. The next step is now to be considered. A spectacular gesture flatters the present; the art of building — taken in its fullest sense — ensures longevity. How to endure? How to take one’s place in history and in the world?

Architecture offers the most compelling response to these questions. Yet the path is strewn with pitfalls and impostors abound. The market of illusions is tightly guarded. Under the guise of so-called technical challenges, engineers often embark on projects that are doomed from the outset. Utopia sells well but the moment of truth inevitably arrives.

Under the guise of so-called technical challenges, engineers often embark on projects that are doomed from the outset

Dr. Karim Basbous

The decisions in recent months to slow or halt certain projects provide Gulf leaders with an opportunity to choose their architects more judiciously. They might, for instance, solicit architects capable of reinterpreting the great principles of Islam — measure, balance and restraint — using light, geometry or natural ventilation. Is not the challenge, precisely, to integrate the most advanced technology alongside the immemorial and immaterial capital offered to us by sky and earth?

Sinan, Louis Kahn or, more recently, Marina Tabassum — who built the Bait Ur Rouf Mosque in Dhaka — have shown that economy of means inspires the most arresting achievements. The ambition of a sovereign is entirely compatible, for instance, with the humility at the heart of Islam. Rare are the architects who disregard the need to please; yet they alone know how to transform the necessity of a public building into national dignity — a pledge of political and social stability.

Let us take the example of the royal palace. One expects it to be the highest expression of architecture, understood as “the art of presence” in space and in time. There exist buildings of magisterial muteness, at whose feet one senses something difficult to define, something akin to what jurists call the mystery of obedience. They command respect from all who approach, dissipating violence by their mere presence, without being fortresses.

The music of power, which architecture alone knows how to play, was invented millennia ago in the East, at a time when Northern Europe knew little more than huts. History willed that it be reborn north of the Mediterranean as early as Greek antiquity, reaching its apogee in the “Grand Siecle,” whose buildings sustain to this day an unmatched idea of the state. Unlike ordinary autocracies, this idea makes the eloquence of form the instrument of a desirable kind of power. Yes, one can be both feared and loved. This calls for a mastery of representation, where aesthetics and politics intersect.

From the perspective of political philosophy, the authority of a royal palace outlasts that of its occupant. Borrowing Ernst Kantorowicz’s phrase, the building belongs to the “second body of the king,” that symbolic body upon which the continuity of power rests. When the aim is both to honor and to awe a visiting head of state, hospitality — a great hallmark of Arab culture — is turned into a political instrument. The science of spatial planning, which choreographs movement, establishes hierarchies of privilege and access and organizes perspectives, contributing to the representation of the state.

Generally speaking, the palace must embody a rare quality in which people take enduring pride: grandeur. Grandeur is rare because it is difficult to conceive, to define even, yet we recognize it when we see it. It differs from the mere display of dominance, ostentation or pomp, which are its counterfeits.

Another observation concerns the cultural challenge, vis-a-vis three pernicious influences.

Invention, for a leader bold enough to pursue it and prudent enough to manage the risks, strengthens the pride of a nation

Dr. Karim Basbous

The first is submission to the past. The royal seats of power in Qatar and Abu Dhabi — the Amiri Diwan and Qasr Al-Watan — replicate ornamental motifs of yesteryear. Yet the challenge is surely to embody tradition without imitation, to make history rather than to repeat it. Pastiche stifles imagination and inhibits cultural progress. Invention, for a leader bold enough to pursue it and prudent enough to manage the risks, strengthens the pride of a nation.

The second concerns the provenance of decor. Greco-Roman pilasters, Louis XV armchairs and empire-style curtains are all borrowed codes from Europe. This is particularly true of the Al-Yamamah Palace, built at a time when a rapidly rising Saudi Arabia may have been less self-assured than it is today. The moment has come for Riyadh to invent and embrace a grand national style, nourished by the talent of local communities, like the new Diriyah’s traditional Najdi architecture. It is an ambitious undertaking but one likely to yield considerable international prestige.

Cultural sovereignty is won through a distinct, innovative aesthetic grammar, reflecting the spirit of the region itself. This complex relationship with the old continent is also evident in the selection of architects. It is possible to enlist foreign talent, to benefit from experience, without relying on their taste as a guide.

The third influence is fashion. Trends turn architecture into an object subject to the whims of style, to arbitrariness, to caprice. Yet this pitfall can be avoided if the patron, well advised, defines a symbolic program to which the architect must adhere. In this way, the architect’s freedom is framed, guided and nurtured. The aim is not to dominate but to fertilize imagination. When the commissioner knows only “who” it wants, rather than “what” it wants, it serves mainly to gratify an architect eager to add another trophy to his portfolio.

The Gulf states deserve not to be trapped by this signature-centric approach. Harnessing collective intelligence could be envisaged. It is worth recalling that both the Parthenon and the Rockefeller Center were conceived by committees of architects, to ensure no single ego could seize the project.

Finally, Europe was shaped not only by monuments but by the institutions they housed — without which those monuments would be mere empty shells. At one point, it was deemed necessary to “import” the Louvre, but the age of commercial franchises has passed, as they inevitably remind everyone of who owns the name. Borrowed institutions can, however, become steppingstones toward cultural sovereignty.

Europe has long held a monopoly on prestige. It will retain it until somewhere, through the initiative of an enlightened prince, the conditions are assembled to undertake with vigor the greatest adventure of our civilizations: uniting the art of governance with the art of building. This is the key to great reigns.

• Dr. Karim Basbous is a Full Professor of Architecture and strategic real estate adviser supporting public authorities and major investors in long-term development strategies. X: @karim_basbous1