The Rows On Embassy Rows

The Baghdad compound is controversial because of its size and cost—and allegations of mismanagement, now under investigation—as well as what it represents in terms of a long-term American presence. And such is the animosity toward it that German critics have compared the Berlin embassy to Baghdad's. But that critique misses the point. The Baghdad embassy is a fortress that few will actually see. Its stance suggests little or no confidence in the host government. It is located in a restricted zone, and is therefore more akin to the defensively designed new U.S. embassies built far from city centers.

By contrast, the Berlin embassy, first proposed by the Clinton administration in 1997, was meant to be an example of design excellence that would illustrate America's commitment to the newly reunified Germany and its re-established capital. It expresses optimism and trust, and while it would have been easy to abandon the project in 1998, or turn the building into yet another boxy emblem of America's well-justified security concerns, the government moved ahead with the project precisely because of its symbolic significance and the confidence that Germany could protect it.

Rather than backing away from their design, the architects integrated the security component as seamlessly as possible into the building while making every effort to avoid competing with landmarks like the Brandenburg Gate and the nearby Reichstag. Instead of walling off the building, or drawing unwanted attention to it by surrounding it with concrete barriers—as the United States has done in London and at its embassy in Ottawa—they included security elements while incorporating civic gestures to engage the public, including a skylit rotunda that opens onto Pariser Platz, a glassy lantern tower that glows toward the Tiergarten at night and a street-corner pavilion that gives passersby a glimpse of a colorful Sol LeWitt mural commissioned for the south lobby. The building is neither loud nor ego-driven, as many U.S. embassies were in the '50s, when these buildings were gathering places and civic centers. "It is a quiet building, and meant to be so out of respect for its surroundings," says John Ruble, a partner at Moore Ruble Yudell, the California firm that designed the building.

Sadly, German critics have chosen to ridicule the security mandate, and have misread the building as a reflection of current U.S. foreign policy when it stands for the very opposite—an affirmative expression of the trust and mutual respect that makes diplomacy possible. Worse still is that if the negative criticism is misunderstood, the State Department will lose any incentive to push for fresh new designs that are linked symbolically and architecturally to their host communities.

Soon, architecture critics will have an opportunity to assess yet another new U.S. embassy. At the opening of the Olympic Games this summer, the U.S. State Department will dedicate its new embassy in Beijing. Unlike the embassy in central Berlin, it will consist of a four-hectare compound set apart from the city center in a diplomatic district in the Liang Ma He neighborhood. Designed by Skidmore, Owings & Merrill of San Francisco, it is strikingly modern, with a fusion of Eastern and Western themes within a high-tech idiom. Its size allows for gardens and open courtyards and other landscape features that draw on Chinese traditions and enliven the tightly planned parcel.

The Beijing embassy is being built in tandem with a monumental new Chinese Embassy in Washington, D.C., and, like Berlin, it is the most visible symbol of America's official presence abroad. One hopes that as critics have time to reflect, they will appreciate the positive diplomatic statements behind these new façades.

Loeffler teaches architectural history at the University of Maryland. She is the author of “The Architecture of Diplomacy” (1998).

© 2008