A slight and moderately entertaining book that is literally and figuratively dwarfed by its predecessors, The Oregon Experiment doesn't quite give the resolute conclusions that an experiment might yield. For a book that condemns the usage of a master plan, the book still functions as a prelude to the results of the true experiment. Its conclusion reads like the finish of an introduction. We know that the University of Oregon decided to adopt the aesthetic/architectural/philosophical POV for growth of an organic order from Alexander, but after The Oregon Experiment we only know how those principles were transposed to an academic setting given that there were pragmatic constraints to how the theory of the previous two works could be applied. The most we know of the results of the application is the current campus map of the University of Oregon, which, awesomely, deviates little from the "script". Still, what we're reading here are the early phases of a managed project; what I'm curious about is the deliverable, and what metrics could be utilized to testify to the success of Alexander's model. I'm concerned mainly that: (1) the University of Oregon saved money; (2) if its natural beauty is rated highly by its student body and/or in some of the surveys that rank colleges based on the merits of the campus aesthetic; and (3) if it has grown proportionally in size with the growth of the student body. A cursory glance at the present-day map isn't enough information for me to say that the apparatus is out-and-out successful. While that does allow us to say that Alexander's model succeeds in being prophetic, it hasn't demonstrated to me that it is immune to typical failures of human organization, or that it's easier or can quantify a measured increase in fulfillment - even academic performance - as Alexander implies.
I am concerned with the merit of the assumptions Alexander makes about organic order. For example, he talks about biological "growth fields" that modulate the growth of certain sectors of organisms against others and how this applies to architectural building. It should only work as a metaphorical comparison but Alexander is very serious about making organic growth in an organism match the organic growth of a university. I'm afraid that there's a fallacy of inference here: that by taking the growth characteristic of a cell and seeing the cell's success in growth, Alexander is assuming that this is the sole agent responsible for the cell's success, and ignores some of the more unsung factors going into a cell's proliferation. I caution against using analogical gaps to say that "this process works for X and yields Y for a certain Z, so if we take X for a certain ~Zish thing, it should also yield Y." It's an argument that involves the transposition of behavior from one thing that is not similar to another and assuming the same conclusions. While I'm not sure if this ultimately ended up a success for Alexander, I'm still positive that the correct conclusion was arrived at by fallacious thought processes. Alexander's also overly romanticizing the competence of a cell and its growth. It's likely an anachronistic criticism, but to model architectural growth after cellular growth because of its efficiency is ignoring how much of a kludge human evolution has been. It's a clumsy path of least resistance that shouldn't unhesitatingly be copied.
Alexander also puts way too much credit behind the willing participation of a community to stay and remain involved in for-credit and/or for-fulfillment-of-committee-duty responsibilities. These are unsatisfactory motives for faculty committee memberships that are far less daunting. I doubt that these are long-term, feasible incentives. Nor do I think the temptation to fall prey to developers of 'large lump models' is fully erased by ascribing to Alexander's dogma; it's fully possible that internal pressures coupled with a slowly blooming public apathy will spell difficulties for this organizational model. The apparatus by which adjustments are made here will have to still account for proportional expansion, which will breed more expansion, which will in turn cause the eternal project to require more resources that the University may not be equipped to provide. With these kinds of internal pressures, contracting a firm to build a large, fuck-off building has an appeal and a seductiveness to it that I'm almost positive other universities have succumbed to (given the looks of it, I feel the University of Southern California has, anyway).
Alexander often appeals anecdotally to beautifully-rendered communities that were built in ancient times without the help of corporate firms or heady architects. This is fine, but reductive. They were also constructed in an environment where population density, industrialization, and late-period capitalism weren't wreaking dire havoc. They could also have been built in fiefdoms. We're also ignoring the human cost of these well-laid out plans: the awe-inspiring natural beauty that is Stonehenge likely took some back-breaking slave work, just like the Pyramids, and so on and so forth. Sure, Alexander wants to hearken back to those types of structures, but is not giving full credence to the historical and anthropological context under which they were created. It's not necessarily that they intuited Alexander's pattern language; perhaps it's something else. We don't know because it's not fully addressed.
I also think Alexander misses how well we adjust to our surroundings and sort of let things erode over time. I worry about the collapse of open space with Alexander's small-expanse model because of the human penchant to adjust to new situations, new closed-in spaces, new limitations. With a new structure follows an adjustment to that structure. This is partly where apathy sets in because of how quickly those contributions achieve normalcy, or slowly reveal more problems, or more voids to fill in. Alexander doesn't address how familiar our revisions become, or oftentimes interact to reveal more issues with their presence and by their presence that were meant to be corrected by the presence itself. This is a real phenomenon (perhaps more pertinent when adding components to a complex system) that is neglected here. It also leads me to ponder another phenomenon: is there a nature versus nurture about how the typical human being views, and feels comfortable in, a constructed space? I'm eager to hear Alexander's thoughts about this in his other works.
The Oregon Experiment suffers from its brevity by not giving as much as we might need to be satisfied by the terms and conditions going forward. So be it, but the concepts and theories it discusses are so brilliant and thoughtful that I am more than eager to read the theoretical works proceeding it. The application is lean and smart, and the rebuttals sound given the space they're provided. Alexander is a brilliant thinker in how he and his colleagues are pushing up against the limits of their understanding of building to come up with a mesmerizing body of work. The Oregon Experiment is a cool elevator pitch for that, and lacks in ways the traditional elevator pitch would lack. This left me wanting more, but not in a good way.