Moshe Safdie: Utopian Ideals vs. Contemporary Practice

The Great Hall of the National Gallery of Canada (my photo).

I thoroughly enjoyed my recent trip to Montreal, Quebec City, and Ottawa, having not previously visited any of these cities. All three are historically rich, presenting ample and fascinating evidence of their beginnings as French or British colonial settlements. While I admired the distinctive urban morphology and many landmark buildings (some dating back as far as the early 17th century) each city can boast, some of the more prominent recent developments attracted me as well. Of these, the projects designed by Israeli Canadian architect and urban planner Moshe Safdie stand out.    

Moshe Safdie’s architectural career presents a fascinating blend of utopian ambition, humanistic principles, and the inevitable compromises that arise from large-scale projects in a globalized world. His work, from the visionary Habitat '67 in Montreal to the iconic Marina Bay Sands Resort in Singapore, reflects both the ideals he established early in his career and the evolving demands of contemporary architecture.

I aimed to visit some of Safdie’s notable works during my trip—or at least that was my goal. I brought my well-worn copy of Safdie’s 1982 book Form & Purpose to (re)read during downtime at the airport and on the plane. I wanted to revisit Safdie’s critique of present-day architecture, particularly his call for a return to human-centered, environmentally responsive design. As he states in the book, “. . . when it comes to design—the design of our environment, cities, buildings, houses, utensils, clothes, furniture, cars, and planes—there is one overriding test: Is it done with a deep sense of commitment to people, a commitment in the broadest sense to man in all his complexities—his desires, hopes, fears, and, above all, his well-being? It is a surprisingly simple test.” This perspective remains deeply relevant in discussions about architecture today. I hoped to apply this test to the Safdie projects I wanted to see.

Habitat 67 (photo by Parcours riverain - Ville de Montréal from Canada, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons)

One of my targets was Habitat '67, the modular housing project that first brought a precociously young Safdie international acclaim. Unfortunately, my time constraints and the project’s relative inaccessibility precluded seeing it up close. Built for the 1967 World’s Fair (Expo 67), Habitat '67 (an adaptation of his thesis project while an undergraduate at McGill University) emerged during a time of social and political upheaval. Safdie envisioned an inclusive community, reflecting the optimism of the era while addressing the challenges of urban density. However, critics called attention to its shortcomings, pointing out that despite its ambitious intentions, the project is isolated from the urban fabric it aimed to enhance, revealing the complexities of translating visionary concepts into practical, livable solutions. I fully agree on this point.

National Gallery of Canada (my photo)

One of the National Gallery of Canda's top floor rooms (my photo).

While in Ottawa, I visited the National Gallery of Canada, one of Safdie’s most celebrated projects. Completed in 1988, the building resonated with me on many levels. The extensive use of glass, particularly in the Grand Hall, floods the space with natural light and creates a profound sense of openness. Safdie’s design emphasizes transparency, allowing the surrounding landscape to frame the architecture itself and fostering a connection between the building and its environment. This alignment with Safdie’s belief that architecture should serve both human needs and the natural world struck a chord with me.

The National Gallery stands as an exemplary representation of Safdie’s principles. It avoids the pitfalls of excessive symbolism or aesthetic novelty that he critiques in Form & Purpose, instead offering clarity of form, light, and cultural sensitivity. The massive building is “of” Ottawa, fitting in while punctuating the cityscape in a way not unlike the capital city’s other landmarks. The building encourages public engagement, blending truly grand, monumental spaces with more intimate areas that prevent overwhelming visitors. The project is an example where Safdie’s utopian vision seems fully realized, merging functionality, beauty, and environmental responsiveness into a coherent whole.

John G. Diefenbaker Building. I struggled to find a satisfactory perspective from which to take a photograph. This shot, taken from a vantage I did not have access to, is by JustSomePics, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons.

I also visited Safdie’s expansion of the John G. Diefenbaker Building in Ottawa. This project sparked controversy during its design and construction, particularly due to disagreements between Safdie and the City of Ottawa regarding both design and cost. The friction during its development reflects the compromises architects often face when tackling complex public projects. The Diefenbaker Building is a thus a balance between ambition and practicality, and perhaps belies Safdie’s claims of working without arrogance.

The tension between his utopian ideals and the demands of a global, commercialized architectural landscape have marked Safdie’s career. His early work aimed to create architecture that responded to both human and environmental needs. Habitat '67 sought to humanize urban housing by offering privacy, green spaces, and individuality in a dense environment. Yet, as with many utopian projects, economic and logistical challenges complicated efforts to implement such a vision on a broader scale. Habitat’s cost and complexity have made replication difficult, and while it remains an architectural landmark, its inaccessibility and lack of integration with Montreal’s urban fabric are problematic.

Marina Bay Sands, Singapore (photo by Someformofhuman, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons)

Safdie’s later work increasingly reflects the commercial realities of modern architecture. Projects like Marina Bay Sands in Singapore primarily serve as luxury developments aimed at global tourism. Although these designs (the Jewel Changi Airport, also in Singapore, is another example) remain visually stunning and innovative, they prioritize commercial appeal and iconic status over the social idealism that characterized Safdie’s initial work.

Despite this shift, Safdie’s commitment to human-scale design and environmental responsiveness shines through many of his projects. The National Gallery of Canada thoroughly impressed me. It exemplifies Safdie’s belief that architecture should serve the community and its cultural context while maintaining a connection to nature. It stands as a monument to his early ideals, offering a coherent blend of beauty, functionality, and public engagement.

Habitat '67 challenged conventions of urban living. The National Gallery of Canada demonstrates how humanist and environmentalist principles can apply to architecture on a grand scale. At the same time, the challenges and compromises of more recent projects, like Marina Bay Sands, illustrate the complexities architects face in balancing visionary ideals with the realities of contemporary practice. The work of Moshe Safdie speaks to his enduring belief in the potential of architecture to shape society for the better.