Is architecture in crisis?

I spend a lot of time with architects. At my office, at work events, in their studios and in the pub, we are regularly asking ourselves the same question in quietly anxious conversations: is architecture in crisis?

This isn’t the usual cyclical tightening. It’s not a pause between booms. It’s something deeper. Something structural. The signs are hard to ignore.

The business model is fragile. Small and mid-sized practices, the lifeblood of the industry, live in a constant state of volatility. One project lands and teams expand. A scheme stalls – as so many now do – and suddenly the numbers don’t work. Staffing becomes a gamble. Cash flow becomes a daily concern. Feast or famine is not a metaphor. It’s an operating model.

And then there is capital. In companies like mine, in our volatile world, capital deployment has necessarily become more cautious, more forensic, more demanding. When viability tightens, and projects are under intense cost scrutiny, fees are under pressure, particularly from smaller, more entrepreneurial developers. Architects are often asked to redraw, rework and rethink schemes multiple times as funding assumptions shift or costs rise. But do fees stay at the same level as the original job? Rarely.

Layer onto this the growing burden of regulation. Post-Grenfell safety frameworks and principal designer responsibilities, environmental standards, compliance regimes, social value requirements, endless stakeholder engagement – all necessary, right, proper and welcome. But they come with cost, time and complexity. Developers, under pressure, push that burden down the chain. Architects absorb it. More work. More risk. Fees under constant review.

Add rising professional indemnity insurance, increasing overheads, the cost of talent, the cost of simply staying compliant – and you begin to see the shape of the problem.

And perhaps the most destabilising factor of all: uncertainty. How do you run a business when your pipeline is opaque? When decisions are delayed, schemes are paused, and work arrives in unpredictable bursts? Architecture has become an exercise in navigating the unknown.

So yes, there is a credible case that the profession is in crisis. the economic pressures only tell half the story.

There is a cultural strain running through architecture too. Long hours, burnout, inequity. A growing sense among younger architects that the profession they trained so hard to join may not offer a viable long-term career. Talent is leaving – not because the work lacks meaning, but because the system lacks sustainability.

And this is where the spotlight inevitably turns to the profession’s institutions. What, exactly, is the Royal Institute of British Architects doing in this moment?

RIBA remains one of the most recognisable architectural institutions in the world. It carries history, authority and, in many ways, affection. But history can become a weight. Authority can become inertia.

This feels like a to me like a moment that demands more than guidance notes and well-meaning initiatives. It demands leadership. Advocacy. A willingness to confront uncomfortable truths about how the profession is structured and valued.

Is RIBA being sufficiently vocal about fees? About procurement practices that reward the lowest bidder over the best thinker? About the systemic transfer of risk onto architects without fair compensation? Is it truly acting as an aggressively supportive trade body for its members – or as a cultural institution more concerned with process and tradition? Some argue that RIBA’s constitution limits it in this regard – it’s Royal Charter says that it exists ‘for the general advancement of architecture and for the promotion and facilitation of the acquisition of knowledge of the arts and sciences connected therewith.’ Even on the narrowest reading of this, I’d argue that ‘the general advancement of architecture’ should include support for architects to be able to exist in turbulent markets. There is, increasingly, a sense that the profession needs a stronger voice. Not just to celebrate architecture, but to defend architects. With a crisis focus, RIBA could be that leader.

And then there is Portland Place. The refurbishment of 66 Portland Place – RIBA’s iconic home – could be a moment. An opportunity to do something radical. To reimagine not just a building, but what the institution represents. Instead, I wonder whether it risks becoming a beautifully executed but fundamentally conventional project. A careful restoration of a historic asset, rather than a bold statement about the future of the profession.

Because if architecture is changing – and it is – then surely its most prominent institution should embody that change. Where is the experimentation? Particularly at a time when RIBA is temporarily homeless and has a wonderful opportunity to be a bit ‘meanwhile’ through the practical occupation of a number of spaces instead of its long-standing home? Where is the visible embrace of new ways of working? The integration of digital practice, collaboration, public engagement? Where is the sense that the new 66 could be not just a headquarters, but a living laboratory for the future of architecture? At a time when practices are grappling with existential questions, RIBA has a chance to signal something different. Not preservation, but transformation.

This is not to dismiss what RIBA does well. Its work on education, awards, research and public engagement remains important. There are serious people inside the organisation thinking hard about the future of the profession, not least it’s relatively new president, Chris Williamson who has already signalled he’s ready to rebel by renouncing his ARB accreditation. But the pace and scale of change in the industry may be outstripping the response. It could set clearer expectations around fair fees.

The truth is that architecture cannot solve this problem on its own. Individual practices cannot fix procurement models that undervalue design. They cannot reset fee benchmarks across a fragmented market. They cannot, alone, rebalance the relationship between capital and creativity. Architecture sits within a much broader ecosystem – developers, investors, contractors, planners, policymakers. And if there is a crisis, it is a shared one.

Because design creates enormous value. We all know this, even if we don’t always price it properly. The best schemes – the ones that endure, that outperform, that people choose to spend time and money in – are shaped by the quality of their design thinking at the very start. Better design is not a higher cost. It is a multiplier of value.

So the question becomes: how do we, collectively, respond? We developers have a role to play thinking more cleverly about procuring design teams on the basis of value, not simply cost. Clever developers understand that investment in design pays back – in lettings, in placemaking, in long-term asset performance. Clients across both the public and private sectors must ask themselves whether their procurement processes are genuinely delivering the outcomes they they want.

Government, too, has a role. If the built environment is to be treated as a driver of economic growth (see my previous column on this issue) then the health of the professions that underpin it matters. That means thinking seriously about procurement frameworks, about the cumulative burden of regulation, about how policy decisions ripple through the supply chain.

And institutions like the Royal Institute of British Architects must step forward. Not just as custodians of the profession’s heritage, but as noisier participants in shaping its future. Advocating, loudly and clearly, for the value architects bring, equipping practices with the tools to operate as resilient businesses and challenging the norms that have led us here.

None of this is about special pleading. Architecture is not unique in facing difficult conditions. Many industries are grappling with uncertainty, cost pressure and structural change - this is not a claim for exceptionalism. But what does make a difference – in any sector – is recognition. Recognition, from those in positions of influence, that there is a problem. That the current model is under strain. That intervention, support or simply a shift in thinking might be required. Without that recognition, nothing changes.