All those who think about the architecture of Iran today, whichever way they turn, arrive at the conclusion that the course of this architecture is, on the whole, unsatisfactory, and something must be done about it. The symptoms and evidence of this course being unfavorable are, first and foremost, that — as in other artistic and cultural arenas — creativity, which always carries the names of certain individuals or works on everyone's lips, has no such names or works on anyone's lips in the field of architecture. Poets, writers, filmmakers, even industrialists and scientists, and more than all of them statesmen and politicians — from every profession, at least a few individuals and their works have achieved, more or less, a degree of renown. Yet in the field of our contemporary architecture, not even a single person has attained that kind of fame. Nowhere in the world have architects reached the fame of poets, writers, filmmakers, and politicians either. Their language and the medium through which fame is forged are one and the same, and very often both travel the same road. The tools of both are words, sound, and image. But the language of architecture is not the language of media and advertising. Even in countries that are renowned in architecture, the relatively greater recognition that people have of their contemporary architects and their works is owed to extensive promotional effort — through publishing books and journals and producing radio and television programs. Such promotional activity in our country is nearly nonexistent, and this itself is a sign that architecture is counted not only outside the pillars of culture but even outside its secondary elements.
Another reason is that whenever among the public and the media a word is spoken about architecture, it concerns the past, not the present. The moment the name of Iranian architecture is mentioned, Isfahan and Yazd and Kashan, and arches and domes and tilework come to mind. That is, either architecture as a whole is considered something belonging to the past, or our share in the history of architecture is limited to what we possessed in the past. Although over the past hundred years we have built structures different from those of the past for new civic and governmental institutions, and the volume of our new housing construction is many times that of our entire historical past, the image that has been formed of them in people's minds not only does not rival the image of past architecture, but is so confused and unstable that it is fundamentally incapable of establishing any meaning or definition of architecture for itself.
The second point is that the few good civic and governmental buildings we have built in imitation of modern Western architecture have been unable to create an image of themselves and their era in the minds of the people. The reason these buildings have not been transformed into scholarly traditions in the country's contemporary architecture is this: it is true that with the spread of modern architecture across the entire world, one can no longer consider it the property of particular countries. But to participate in this global architecture, each partner must pay its own share. The force and power of our contemporary architecture is the product of the efforts of a number of architects from various countries and the professional and educational institutions that support them.
The third point is that the models and patterns we have taken from others — whether to be used in our new buildings or to serve as examples and standards — the imitation and promotion of these models is sometimes scholarly but more often superficial and populist. The exchange of ideas and customs between peoples and nations has always existed. But if the cultural customs of other peoples — which carry the wisdom and knowledge of those peoples — are adopted and disseminated in an unscholarly manner, they do not enrich the culture of the receiving people. The reason the few good civic and governmental buildings we have built in imitation of modern Western architecture have been unable to create an image of themselves and their era in the minds of the people, and the reason they have not been transformed into scholarly traditions in the country's contemporary architecture, is precisely this.
The fourth point is that every non-specialist in architecture and every person unfamiliar with the foundations of general culture permits himself, when discussing public and social issues, to pronounce judgment on architecture as well. And because the public sees contemporary architecture being subjected to a barrage of criticism without anyone there to defend it, they say to themselves: something that has no defender is probably not worth defending. Most of those who criticize contemporary architecture object that it does not continue the path of the past. But what they mean by "continuing the path of the past" is not clear. If what they mean is repeating formal resemblances, they ought to think a little about what affinity and relevance exists between the materials, dimensions, and uses of today and those resemblances. It is true that these attacks on architecture are superficial and amateurish. But the defenselessness against them also speaks to the weakness and infirmity of our contemporary architecture.
A professional-scientific institution must take up the defense of architecture. An institution in which the most industrious creators of works and ideas in contemporary architecture have gathered to think about its elevation. The existing professional, educational, and cultural institutions and associations may be adequate for the development and promotion of architecture and may themselves be good examples and models. But the elevation of architecture requires an institution at the foundation of which all such establishments are placed. Architecture is simultaneously a productive, industrial, and creative enterprise; the production and industry of architecture must draw its energy from creativity.
The creative talents of our contemporary architecture operate in an environment that is unscholarly and where creativity is given no value; they expend their energy in those very institutions on ordinary tasks of development and promotion that draw little from creativity. This does not mean that creative talents should not work professionally or teach in schools of architecture. They are already doing these things. What is missing is an institution that would organize these creative forces at a level beyond individual activities — an organization that must transform the product of their work and thought into teachings for development and promotion. This institution must attain such stature that all professional and educational institutions and the media would need its teachings and defer to the authority of its expertise.
The architecture of every country is composed of the collective activities of producers, craftsmen, those possessing construction skills, design firms, construction firms, schools of architecture, and centers of research, compilation, and publication. But the authority and power of intellectual and creative guidance belongs to those who, while active in those very institutions, have stepped beyond the level of development and promotion to strive on the path of elevating the architecture of their era. How and when will these strivers for the elevation of architecture come together? The elevation of architecture is a historical-cultural transformation. The conditions for the occurrence of historical-cultural transformations are created by history itself.