Drop the Pen – Stick to the Drafting Table
A Satirical Take on Architectural Pedagogy as We Know It
Omar Abolnaga

Published in Cairo Digest V1–FUNDAMENTALS-2025

Five skyscrapers in the background. A dark blue, gloomy sky. Misty weather. Inverted mushroom-like structures on the right and, on the left, a row of identical palm trees. In the foreground, cutouts of kids playing, veiled women for ‘context’, and plenty of stock images. Together, they form the perfect mise-en-scène for a new urban development. What a 3D render! The architecture firm must be proud of their work on this billboard, standing tall above the city’s busiest traffic thoroughfare. And why wouldn’t they? This is their vision for transforming a space that, for decades, was overrun with dilapidated buildings, illiterate people, poverty, and, of course, grime. Grime no more! Thanks to these visuals and their ‘added value’, the architect has fixed it all.

For a long time, architecture schools have focused on equipping students with specific technical skills tailored to the demands of the ‘free market’. That market, which everyone treats as the ultimate truth, shapes all aspects of architectural practice. To survive, students must master these tools. Their first job interview is a performance review: ‘How skilled are you in beautifying ugliness? How capable are you of attracting capital? Are you, at your core, the type of architect who can valorise space?’

Of course, there is always some murmuring about so-called social responsibility, all that fluff about architecture ‘serving society’. Sure, maybe. That’s why schools teach students to dust off some 70-year-old blueprints and use them to design high-rise housing blocks in the desert. Don’t get me wrong, these prototypes are indispensable. How else can we revalorise the city spaces, those strategically located yet plagued with an indescribable rent gap?

The people living there? Well, they can always be relocated. Preferably somewhere far away in the desert. Oh, not this desert. This one is reserved for our sophisticated clients whose newfound tastes fall for the billboards in English, Italian, Spanish, or whatever language the ninety-nine per cent cannot read. Others, however, can go eighty-nine kilometres northeast from their old centrally located space. Too expensive for them? Don’t worry; we’ll borrow and install a cable car network à la Medellín.

Anyway, back to the point: writing and reading? Architects don’t need those. ‘Drawing is the primary medium of architecture, not text.’ Developers don’t pay architects to write words on billboards. Sure, some firms have started adding cryptic phrases instead of renders, but that doesn’t work everywhere. Renders speak stronger than words. They can cut off any talk about gentrification, displacement, and all other nonsense. A render can end a debate before it even starts. After all, who would argue for preserving worthless ruins when faced with a breathtaking image created by an obedient architect?

So, no, architecture students shouldn’t waste time writing. What would they even write about? The space between buildings? The city? The people? Their representations? That’s pointless. Let them stick to what they do best: drawing. Maybe some writing in their final year, just enough to handle composing design briefs for competitions. But beyond that? Writing is dangerous.

The problem with writing is that it opens some doors into the unknown. Doors that lead to questions. Questions that lead to objections. Before long, you’d have architects questioning the sacred truths of the market, advocating for the rights of illegitimate citizens to the city. Or worse, abandoning the market altogether to experiment with primitive techniques and calling it ‘architecture for the poor’. Let’s face it: architecture isn’t for the poor. Who can afford an architect these days? The market dictates who gets designed for and by whom. Encouraging students to think beyond the market’s confines could lead to the point of no return. Once they go down that road, who knows where it will end? We might wake up finding a young generation of rogue architects challenging top-down plans and opposing developers in their noble efforts to capitalise on rent gaps.

And then what? No more billboards. No more skyscrapers. No more shiny dreams for revalorised spaces. No one wants to lose the city’s most strategic locations to the ninety-nine percent. Let’s not open doors the market might not be able to shut.

Disclaimer: Yes, writing this article in a language intangible to the ninety-nine percent might seem hypocritical. There are many reasons for this choice, but let’s just say addressing an Anglophone audience is not one of them.