In leading an organization—whether a business, charity or educational institution—one of the key responsibilities is managing the pace and process of change. Adapting the mission to a constantly changing landscape requires the organization to stay relevant while remaining true to its core purpose. To do this successfully, organizations must define their north star—the constants that remain intrinsic to them even as they navigate change. As management guru Peter Drucker said, “The key to change management is defining what not to change.” Perhaps this definitional challenge is most acute in the context of science and technology. Too much deliberation runs the risk of getting left behind as new advancements are discovered; and too little can lead to sacrificing one’s north star on the altar of progress.
Amid a rapidly shifting technological landscape, historic architecture may not top the list of priorities for keeping an organization on the cutting edge. Yet it can provide an important grounding that helps keep an institution tied to its “what not to change” even as it seeks breakthrough discoveries. This was evident earlier this fall when Grove City College rededicated one of its campus jewels. Newly recast as the Smith Hall of Science & Technology, the former Rockwell Hall towers over campus at the head of the main quad. William Smith, Jr., the building’s namesake and a successful entrepreneur, noted that the original building was nearly deemed too far gone to be worth restoring as he recounted the deliberations that led from a replacement strategy to a restoration effort. Thank God the renovators prevailed.
Why rejoice over a particular outcome that saw renovation win out over replacement? Wouldn’t a cutting-edge facility with all the bells and whistles do more to win over the career-minded ambitions of prospective students and their parents? Couldn’t a new, state-of-the-art structure serve the direct purpose more efficiently?
Perhaps, but because architecture is messaging, restoration was the better course. Dr. Charles Dunn, an attorney who served as Dean of Arts & Letters at GCC a generation ago, first alerted me to architecture as messaging. He observed why courthouses are often the most elaborate, striking structure in one’s county. He noted that they symbolize the community’s veneration for justice and rule of law; the courthouse sends a message that this building is among our community’s most iconic because we hold justice to be its most important asset. Just up the road from GCC, the Mercer County Courthouse provides a fitting case in point.
Two features evident in the Smith Hall restoration help express the message that the building sends. First, the connector. A connecting corridor was engineered that joins the original Smith Hall to STEM Hall, a modernistic neighbor where glass and steel compete with brick. The connector required designers to offset the difference in floor heights between the buildings, calibrating a custom solution. As one walks through from one building to the next, there is a sense of transitioning from classic architecture to modern; the implicit reminder is that it’s worth the trouble to keep the classic and the modern connected, lest we lose contact with the foundational principles that foster an environment where we can pursue breakthrough ideas.
A second element is the mantel inscription above the main doors. As the new building was dedicated, the title “Smith Hall of Science and Technology” is etched in a new, lighter gray stone panel, having replaced the previous “Rockwell Hall” inscription. Yet at either corner of the inscription, you find the building’s original watchwords chiseled in weathered, darker stone: “the discovery of truth … the development of character.” The contrast of the newly minted and weathered stone reveals another important message echoed in the remarks that day: names of donors come and go; but science as a channel for godly character formation remains a timeless endeavor.
The endurance of the building itself reinforces implicit messages that foster good character. As students work on new solutions, doing so in a historic building invites humility. They will be reminded that they are following those that came before, that today’s breakthrough is tomorrow’s outmoded technology. Scientists are invited to pause and look again (“re-spect”) at their work in the light of those who came before and those who will come after, to take their place in history rather than seek to eclipse it.
Finally, the restoration preserves the visual linkage between the building and its sibling, Harbison Chapel. Of course, like many church structures, Harbison has an architectural message of its own, the spire declaring the intent to be a place that seeks after God. GCC laid both buildings’ cornerstones simultaneously, signaling that the campus’ two most iconic buildings would stand together.
Just as the dedication of Smith Hall came amid a host of swirling questions raised by AI and biotechnology, the 1931 milestone also took place in a time when the relationship between science and faith was becoming more complicated. In 1931, a group of Anglican bishops published the results of their meeting at the Lambeth Conference, giving limited sanction to the use of contraception, marking the first time in history that a major Christian denomination had legitimated the practice. Whatever one’s view of contraception, all can agree the moment was an opening act in the use of modern technology to manipulate the nature of humanity, including the body. That same year, Huxley completed his Brave New World, presciently considering the natural course that technology as a means of population control could take society. GCC proceeded in that time to construct the campus’ two most iconic buildings as a natural pair, signaling their view that science and faith were not opposed but interdependent.
The newly restored building conveys an intention to keep science integrated with theology, to make it an ongoing enterprise to know the Creator by learning from His handiwork. This cuts a stark contrast to the “wisdom of the age,” featuring transhumanists seeking to eclipse natural laws and in the process, to vicariously deify themselves through their creations. They repeat the mistake of the Garden, which repeated the mistake made by Lucifer in heaven, as Milton described it, to seek equality with the Most High. The mistake of the transhumanists will likewise, sadly, lead to the fulfillment of the Proverb, “pride cometh before a fall.”
In restoring Rockwell Hall into Smith Hall of Science, GCC signals its commitment to avoiding such a stumble, to keep science bound to history and theology, and to prepare the next generation to be set apart from the world. In an age when scientific breakthroughs are ushered in via digital media, the building itself stands as an asynchronous message that speaks volumes.
Image via Wikimedia.
