The philosophical shift in justice architecture
By Jessica O’Donnell
Meet justice architect Andre Voss
Andre Voss, AIA, NCARB, LEED APVoss is an Associate at CGL Companies, a comprehensive criminal justice consulting firm specializing in justice facility planning, design, maintenance, and operations. In 2013, Voss started working for CGL and expanded his experience with institutional, medical, and interior projects. He contributes to all phases of design, from planning through concept design to construction management. Outside of CGL, Voss is involved with national and local AIA Knowledge Communities including the Academy of Architecture for Justice (AAJ). He also serves as president of the NYC Revit Users Group and teaches as an adjunct professor at the New York Institute of Technology.
Within the first few minutes of our conversation, I was struck by Voss’s passion for his work with justice architecture. While this specific professional niche was not always his plan, Voss has a profoundly deep understanding of the philosophical perspectives of the different people impacted by the design of courthouses and detention centers, and he is using this knowledge to help facilitate change in what many perceive to be a broken system.
The following questions and answers give greater insight into Voss’s expertise, passions, and aspirations.
Jessica O’Donnell, AIA (JO): Did you take a non-traditional path to become an architect or since you became a licensed architect? Andre Voss (AV): I was born, raised, and educated in Germany, so it took me a while longer to be able to sit for the ARE. By the time my U.S. permanent residency (green card) was approved, I had been in New York City for about 10 years, and my career demanded a lot of time. When I finally found the motivation and made the time, NCARB had trouble accepting my degree from Germany. I took the ARE in New York state based on time I had worked in architecture offices and had to wait until I passed the 12-year mark to receive my license. The one advantage of that delay was that the content of the ARE was less a matter of studying and largely a matter of applying the knowledge I had acquired in practice.”
JO: What inspired you to become an architect? AV: Initially, my intention was to become a structural engineer. Before college, I completed an apprenticeship as a draftsman and realized that the scope of the architect is much more holistic and interesting. The idea of masterminding the building for all trades appealed to me.
JO: What drew you to justice architecture? AV: I was drawn to CGL by the fact that these were two guys who had carved out their niche and made their name in this business. I knew what I could learn from them would be unlike what I could learn from yet another residential mid-rise building.
Over the years, I have come to appreciate the fact that in the detention center design, we are the voice of those who do not get to have a voice within the building; we are advocating for those who cannot advocate for themselves anymore — for those who have been turned over to the care of the state, either on the adult or on the juvenile side. We are building for a user group that is not sitting at the table, and we are their advocates.
When designing detention centers for adults, I personally tend to think of the homeless veteran who did his job, came back with PTSD, is having a hard time coping with life in this world, and ends up being homeless. What happens to this person when they commit a crime of convenience and ends up in jail for a couple of nights? How do we want to treat that person? What is our level of humanity as a society? Is that a full, blown-out maximum-security setting that this person needs to go into, or is that a more humane therapeutic setting? Depending on what setting we are putting people in, what is their reaction? Environment cues behavior.
We know that. A mentor of mine used to say, “A good building will not turn a bad person into a good person, but a bad building will make any of us worse.” I have learned that in my previous offices, and I see that to be truer in justice architecture than anywhere else.
We also think about the correction officers (COs) who work in these facilitates. A catchphrase from one of my mentors is, “The correctional officers are the lifers.” They typically spend a 25-year career, eight-hour days with overtime, in these buildings. These officers are at risk for PTSD because of the daily anxiety of being under threat. There was a study done that showed COs typically die five to eight years younger than the national average. When I heard that, I doubled back, and it made me pause. Their mental stress is real, and compartmentalizing is hard. If COs consistently walk into an environment where they are afraid someone will attack them, how will they perceive a given situation? What can we as designers do to help mitigate the anxiety of all parties in these facilities?
On the courthouse design side, we are advocating for the public in a similar way. There are many stakeholders at the table, including judges, operations staff, vendors, sheriffs, but the actual public is rarely represented at the table. When it comes to designing courthouses, I personally think of the single mother in a custody battle who is walking into the courthouse with a stroller and two toddlers. What is her experience with justice?
You have to go through the same security you would have to go through in any airport just to get into the courthouse, but what does this look like for someone who is there full of anxiety, thinking, “I’m going to have to see the judge, is my ex here (if this is a custody battle), am I losing my kids?” Or maybe she’s just there to pay a parking ticket or wants to contest the parking ticket. That experience is currently intimidating. The level of anxiety from the security to waiting in lines to see the judge — that whole experience. What can we do on the design side to help alleviate the anxiety, to make the experience more humane, to make sure justice is served better and that the system works better?
JO: What unique perspective do you think justice architects bring to the profession? AV: The understanding of human behavior needed for justice architecture is unlike what is required for any other part of the architectural industry. All of those aspects are being considered by all staff members in CGL’s 360 Justice approach.
Not every design solution in a detention facility is what it seems at first blush. Think of the considerations that go into whether a bedroom should have a toilet, which some may consider to be a luxury item. We must first decide if it is a human right. Then we must consider the financing costs of the added fixtures and infrastructure. On top of that, we need to consider both the residents and staff. When discussing this topic with one CO, he said if every bedroom had a toilet, that would reduce the violent incidents in his facility by about 80 percent because the resident would have agency over this part of his life and would not have to ask someone else to go to the bathroom. That means this toilet is not a luxury item; it is an operational solution resulting in less PTSD for both the COs and the residents under their care. This is a small glimpse into the type of thinking and analysis that goes into every aspect of justice architecture design.
Our job is to advocate for those who cannot advocate for themselves. You can say that for other industries, too. In hospitality design, the hotel guests are not sitting in the room for the design of the hotel; the shopper is not there when you are designing the new Prada store. Justice architecture is different still because the Constitution comes into play here. Our client is the taxpayer, and neither the taxpayer nor the people involved in the justice system are at the design table, but access to justice is a constitutional right, and we need to be cognizant of that.
JO: Describe something memorable about your experience in the niche of justice architecture.AV: Last year, I had the chance to work on a prototype/model youth justice facility for the Juvenile Justice Commission of New Jersey. Following a shift in operational philosophy, the state decided to close the central Training School for Boys and some other outdated facilities and replace them with three small, treatment-centric and youth-focused facilities located closer to the families and communities they serve. These new regional centers for male and female youth will be located in north, central and southern New Jersey.
It was a highlight of my career to develop this prototype of a secure school for committed (sentenced) youth with a team of highly dedicated professionals on all sides: State officials, Justice Commission members, and designers and planners all shared a common goal of improving the lives of those for whom this facility is design and who cannot advocate for themselves.
JO: Describe the philosophical change that you have seen in the design of detention facilities?AV: New Jersey, among other states, has instituted a philosophical change for juvenile detention facilities to move to a therapeutic model that promotes healing by giving hope and re-establishing the kids’ outlook on life. This is being accomplished through multiple means. In New York state and others, the Raise the Age initiative is preventing 16- to 18-year-old youth to be housed with adults. Another decision is to move from single central facilities to smaller facilities embedded throughout multiple communities, allowing family and community to remain involved in their lives. Kids in juvenile facilities are put under the care of the state. They do not face life sentences, so they will not be in these facilities forever. We, as a society, have a choice: We can lock them up and throw away the key and after two to five years of negligence expect them to walk out and fit back into society, or while they are in the facilities, we can help these kids cope with their learning disabilities, cope with their trauma, show them what a different life can be and how to be a productive member of society.
In some states, the term “youth” is a little more flexible. Depending on the charge, the judge can decide whether the offender goes to a youth facility or an adult facility up to the age of 25. In some states, it is 18; in other states, the age threshold is 21. Research shows that the judgment center in our brain is developing until age 25 — that is the same for everyone regardless of who they are, what their upbringing is, or where they come from. We all know the phrase “I made that mistake when I was young and dumb.” We have to acknowledge that phrase is not the same for everyone. For the vast majority of people of color, this statement typically leads to an over-harsh sentence, which starts them on a track to a cycle where they do not learn the typical life skills one should acquire at that age to be a productive member of society. They only learn skills from their peers who are also committed. By implementing this new philosophy, we are trying to break this cycle. There is a lot of research, psychology, statistics that are behind that. At CGL, we are one of the few firms, if not the only, who employ a criminologist. She is on our planning team and works with the architectural team daily. For us, it is mission critical to have that “foot” in research into the psychology and sociology of the people who visit, live, and work in the facilities we design.
In the healing approach, it all starts with phrasing. We are not talking about “inmates,” we are talking about juveniles and residents. We are not talking about cells, we are talking about bedrooms. We don’t say officers, we say youth workers — it starts there, and we are very conscientious about it. When designing for this new approach, we tend to think of a bedroom, and four bedrooms make a neighborhood. Four neighborhoods make a village (one building, 16 bedrooms). A village makes up a community that interacts with one another on a daily basis for meals and programming.
JO: What advice do you have for other young architects?AV: Find your dream boss not your dream firm. There are many excellent practitioners in small firms where you will have a better life/work/learning experience than in some of the more prestigious companies. You will have to do “bread and butter” work everywhere, but a great boss will enable you to grow even through that.
Resources:
AIA Knowledge Community: Academy of Architecture for Justice (AAJ) (must be signed in)
AIA NYC Architecture for Justice CommitteeAIA NYC Emerging New York Architects (ENYA)AIA NYC Architecture for EducationAIA NY Technology
Author Bio:
Jessica O’Donnell, AIA, NCARB O’Donnell is a project architect at Kitchen & Associates in Collingswood, NJ. She received her B.Arch from Oklahoma State University in 2011 and serves the Young Architects Forum Advisory Committee as Knowledge Director.