Design Technocracy and New School Architecture in Shenzhen, China
点击这里阅读这篇中文文章。It’s been twenty-eight years since Rem Koolhaas and his team of students from Harvard University Graduate School of Design published Great Leap Forward, which documented and interpreted the astonishing speed of urbanization in the Pearl River Delta in south China. In the intervening years scholarly studies of Shenzhen as a site of intensified experimentation and exceptionality, such as Learning from Shenzhen, The Shenzhen Experiment, and Designing Reform, have proliferated. The unprecedented speed and scale of urban expansion, on which these studies have focused, was first and foremost marked by the pursuit of efficiency—whether in design, regulation, or production, notably exemplified by the construction of Shennan Road (Figure 1). This echoes the well-known statement of Shenzhen’s reform official Yuan Geng formulated in 1981: "Time is Money, Efficiency is Life."
Figure 1. The east-west Shennan Avenue and the north-south central axis of Futian CBD define Shenzhen’s unique urban landscape, 2019. Photograph by Cong Sun
In light of official efforts to redefine the Pearl River Delta as the Greater Bay Area and the ideological weight such reformation carried with it—as a frontier of social reform, technological innovation and design experimentation not only in China, but the world at large—it seems a timely moment to revisit the pursuit of developmental efficiency, together with the promotion of technical expertise and economic rationality within the framework of socialist market economy that facilitated Shenzhen’s urbanization over the past four decades. The government’s preoccupation with efficiency has produced large-scale transformation while also giving rise to a plethora of challenges with regard to educational justice and cultural as well as social wellbeing. For architecture, in particular, the ramifications of this rapid urbanization have been significant. It has entailed formal homogeneity, profit maximization, and spatial segregation, as well as a paucity of public spaces in high density urban environments.
In this article I discuss how a new technocratic approach has reshaped school design in Shenzhen to explore the possibilities and predicaments of architectural experimentation in the last decade, highlighting the promise and challenges faced by China’s architecture elites in their quest to promote cultural innovation and social justice. Public schools have recently figured as exciting, new catalysts in Shenzhen’s urban rejuvenation, as local technocrats transformed these projects into a striking “urban curation” event by challenging established design modes of public projects.[1] Their design and construction were primarily driven by forms of technical expertise that hark back to the initial objectives of Shenzhen’s early development in the 1980s—respecting technical talents and encouraging design exploration. The schools’ design becoming a site for architectural experimentation may lie in their “in-between” position. They were neither high-profile urban landmarks like museums that attracted political attention, nor private developments driven by profit maximization. This in-betweenness left local technocrats with a certain degree of operational flexibility to exercise their design initiative.
Design Technocracy
Technocracy takes many forms and constitutes controversial practices in a wide array of contexts, such as economic planning, social reform, environmental protection, technological advancement, and disease prevention and control, both in the central and local government levels. In this article, I define design technocracy as a system of public design governance where decision-making is primarily based on architectural expertise, an intention to integrate architecture’s pragmatic requirements, cultural value and social commitment, as an alternative to the domination of technocratic thinking based on economic, administrative or technical principles. The many debates surrounding technocracy in China focus on its high-level political implications. As Liu Yongmou claims, technocracy is a better and fairer use of power than any other hierarchical system and a better way to confront social problems than authoritarian politics divorced from technical expertise.
Despite its elite orientation, design technocracy, I would argue, is instrumental in encouraging architectural innovation in contemporary China, in the sense that it creates conditions for alternative designs to be selected, ensuring that the original ideas are implemented with minimal interference. This merit-based decision-making approach challenges the alienation of architecture caused by power and capital, where architecture is widely used as a tool for seeking capital accumulation or building one’s political image. It is not uncommon that many creative, prudent ideas in routine design process are often restrained or modified through internal or external bureaucratic process. However, the new school project in Shenzhen, organized and coordinated by local technocrats, manifested the consistent efforts to overcome the obstacles posed by bureaucratic mediocrity and neoliberal contemporary architecture production in China, promoting the architects’ legitimate authority in design practice. This design autonomy, despite its fragile and ephemeral nature, cultivated a critical force in resisting the commodification of architecture, characterized by the obsession with visual spectacles at the expense of cultural sensibilities, economic rationality, social wellbeing and technological sustainability. In doing so, design technocracy counterbalanced other forms of technocracy, where decisions were driven by administrative, engineering, or economic considerations.
Traditionally, the design, renovation, or expansion of public schools in China involved a complex local bureaucratic process, including project application from the Education Bureau, project approval from the Development and Reform Commission, construction bidding and funding from the Public Works Bureau. In these turnkey projects, school users, including the principal, teachers, students and parents, had few opportunities to get involved in building design. Under the pressure of efficiency, budget and bureaucratic processes, these school designs tended to meet the basic spatial requirements for educational facilities set by the local government. They lacked a semblance of cultural creativity or uniqueness. To change this administrative model, the city’s Planning Bureau official Zhou Hongmei decided to introduce a new approach that involved joint exhibitions, open competitions, collective pilot projects and public participation.
An architecture graduate from China’s Southeast University, Zhou had worked in Shenzhen’s Planning Bureau system for almost three decades, being responsible for project approval and administration. She and her architect colleagues were responsible for ascertaining whether the submitted design plans met the basic requirements of administrative management and whether the projects complied with floor area ratio, setbacks, etc.
As Zhou's position within the official planning system rose, she gained more opportunities to set standards for project development and planning approvals. Around 2005, Zhou was involved in drafting the design brief for the Dafen Art Museum in Shenzhen, emphasizing that it should not merely be a conventional art institution, but a multifunctional space combining an art trading market, exhibition halls, and artist studios. This brief effectively established a clear conceptual framework for the project, thus inspiring local architects Urbanus to employ a sandwich-like spatial structure connected with surrounding communities. Later, Zhou leveraged the opportunity of constructing three district-level cultural and sports centers to address the prevalent disconnection between buildings and urban proximity, tailoring design briefs to each project’s specific context, encouraging architects to highlight urban public spaces. As a response to these design guidelines, Urbanus' design for the Yuehai Cultural and Sports Center used vertically stacked multifunctional sports spaces to engage with programmatic dynamics and surrounding community (Figures 2 and 3).
Figure 2. Yuehai Cultural and Sports Center by Urbanus, 2024. Photograph by Cong Sun and Yuhui Song
Figure 3. Facade details of Yuehai Cultural and Sports Center by Urbanus, 2024. Photograph by Cong Sun and Yuhui Song
What truly combined Zhou's administrative management vision with her commitment to architectural culture and social wellbeing was Shenzhen's New School Project.[2] These school projects went through several phases, beginning with the Hongling Experimental Primary School, the temporary relocation of three school campuses, the 8+1 school projects exhibition in Futian District and the "Six Hakka Academy Exhibition" in Longgang District, and the “100-Campus Renewal Plan” in Nanshan District.[3] These experimental projects emphasized the importance of architectural expertise, as reflected in planning, design, construction, and media promotion, where Zhou coordinated elite professionals from China’s architectural field to contribute ideas for school construction.
Planning Approach
Zhou’s planning of new school initiative aimed to inject technocratic expertise into the process of building educational facilities. She organized workshops to develop case-specific briefs, emphasizing the importance of public spaces. Design proposals were required to highlight the relationship between individual building and urban spaces, propelling architects to contextualize their work within the existing urban fabrics.[4]
To reinforce the value of technocratic expertise, Zhou invited leading architecture professionals to form an academic committee responsible for design consultancy and scheme selection in public competition. [5] In the Futian High School project, for example, the academic committee included architectural scholars such as Gu Daqing, Huang Juzheng, architects Zhu Jingxiang, Meng Yan, Zeng Qun, Wang Wei-Jen, and planner Zhu Rongyuan. The academic-committee approach challenged the "separation of evaluation and determination" (pingding fenli) principle in architectural bidding processes. Under the conventional model, an evaluation committee, composed of senior professionals, recommends three top designs, while a separate committee, including Public Work Bureau staff and stakeholders, selects the final winner based on the jury's report. Although this system ensures technocratic fairness, it has limitations. Jury experts are randomly selected and review designs without site visits or direct engagement with clients, leading to potential misinterpretations. In contrast, the new academic-committee approach grants experts greater decision-making power. These experts assume ultimate "academic responsibilities" and participate throughout the design and construction process, fostering deeper engagement with the project's challenges.[6]
Aside from selecting appropriate design solutions, the academic committee also played an indispensible role in mediating the multiple and even conflicting interests and demands between various stakeholders. Zhou introduced the workshop model to invite academic committee members, architects, officials, clients, contractors, and community representatives to participate in discussions. Participants provided immediate feedback and suggestions for design improvement in workshops. This process improved communication, avoided misunderstandings, and sped up project progress. The committee's opinions would safeguard the school’s interests while also addressing the demands of the general public. When differing opinions arose, the committee played a coordinating role, though it tended to lean more towards technical rationality, upholding the architect's original ideas.
Calculation
While the committee’s decision-making process relied on technical rationality, some of the school design also reflected the technocratic principle of calculation. As Timothy Mitchell argues, calculation plays a central role in the formation of modern governance, the design calculation of spaces, programs, and resources in high density urban environment gave rise to a radical reconfiguration of school structures. Take the example of Hongling Experimental Primary School. In China, conventional campus planning for primary and secondary schools adheres to the principle of functional zoning, where teaching areas, sports areas, logistics and office areas, and green spaces are spatially separated. However, the limited site of Hongling School conflicted with the number of students and spatial needs (a floor area ratio of 3.0), making it clear that the conventional functional zoning method could not be met. Ultimately, a design for an integrated school complex by the O-office Architects was selected by the academic committee. The design featured a mega form covering the entire site below the third floor (Figures 4, 5, and 6). Above the third floor was located an E-shaped three-story teaching building on the west side and a 200-meter outdoor sports field on the east side. Below this mega platform, the architects arranged a wide range of programs that need limited direct sunlight, including auditorium, basketball courts, swimming pool, laboratories, teachers’ offices, library and canteen, landscaped playground and courtyards. Such a bold spatial configuration was less the architects’ idiosyncratic formal expression, and more a technical calculation of and a creative response to the project’s various program requirements.
Figure 4. Southeast view of Hongling Experimental Primary School by O-office Architects, 2024. Photograph by Cong Sun and Yuhui Song
Figure 5. Aerial view of Hongling Experimental Primary School by O-office Architects, 2024. Photograph by Cong Sun and Yuhui Song
Figure 6. East facade of Hongling Experimental Primary School by O-office Architects, 2024. Photograph by Cong Sun and Yuhui Song
The careful functional calculations and spatial arrangement gave these school designs a solid rational foundation. However, these calculations, which challenged conventional school building design norms, also faced scrutiny from fire departments and concerned parents. As a high density school, the design of the Futian High School exhibits how the new approaches of calculation and forms of representation were employed to address complex programmatic challenges. Through meticulous volumetric, spatial, and circulation calculations, the architects of reMIX Studio arranged the high-rise dormitory building at the south end of the site, the teaching buildings on the east side, and a 400-meter standard track and field on the west along the main road (Figures 7, 8, 9, and 10). The field was elevated 7.4 meters above ground, with a swimming pool, auditorium, and sports facilities placed underneath. This elevation, while leaving certain spaces below the field lacking natural lighting and ventilation, allows community access to sports and auditorium spaces and balances the requirements of campus safety, social commitment, and sustainability.
“Despite its elite orientation, design technocracy is instrumental in encouraging architectural innovation in contemporary China.”
Figure 7. Aerial view of Futian High School by reMIX Studio, 2024. Photograph by Cong Sun and Yuhui Song
Figure 8. Viewing the teaching buildings of Futian High School by reMIX Studio, 2024. Photograph by Cong Sun and Yuhui Song
Figure 9. Dormitory building of Futian High School by reMIX Studio, 2024. Photograph by Cong Sun and Yuhui Song
Figure 10. Street view of Futian High School by reMIX Studio, 2024. Photograph by Cong Sun and Yuhui Song
Design calculation also challenged pragmatic approaches to spatial efficiency in school planning. For example, Vector Architects created some redundant spaces in their design for Liyuan Foreign Language Primary School Section 2, specifically by selectively preserving some of the original trees on the site (Figures 11, 12 and 13). While officials from the educational and public work departments questioned the necessity of preserving these non-rare trees, local experts eventually supported the architect's approach. Notably, this design persistence and struggle created a space where students could relax, away from the pressure of uniformity, discipline, and a machine-style campus life. Although it is still too early to fully evaluate the impact of these newly built schools on students’ learning experience, they nonetheless showcase a distinctive design effort to explore the possibilities of spatial reconfiguration and humane concern within the limits of site, program, budget and schedule.
Figure 11. Aerial view of Liyuan Foreign Language Primary School Section 2 by Vector Architects, 2024. Photograph by Cong Sun and Yuhui Song
Figure 12. Courtyard view of Liyuan Foreign Language Primary School Section 2 by Vector Architects, 2024. Photograph by Cong Sun and Yuhui Song
Figure 13. Public spaces of Liyuan Foreign Language Primary School Section 2 by Vector Architects, 2024. Photograph by Cong Sun and Yuhui Song
This technocratic approach and strategy of calculation were extended to the design of temporary school buildings. Due to the need to demolish and rebuild the old campus without disrupting the current students' learning and daily life, Zhou, together with her colleagues, proposed a strategy called the "Noah's Ark Plan" — selecting an urban green space not far from the original campus to build temporary educational facilities for transition use.[7] Since these temporary buildings required rapid construction and dismantling, architects Zhu Jingxiang and Hsieh Ying-chun, both with extensive experience in designing and constructing lightweight steel structures, were entrusted with these projects. Their school designs emphasized standardization, modularization, prefabrication, and rapid on-site assembly, reflecting technocratic control over the building process to ensure safety, durability, and sustainable performance. The temporary buildings for Meili Primary School designed by Zhu, for instance, were constructed with 80x80mm lightweight steel tubes, with a spacing of 2.4 meters. As a result of careful calculation of material consumption, schedule, budget, safety and space, this group of buildings with 6,200 square meters was completed within five months. It demonstrated a clear structural logic and integrated architectural, mechanical and environmental design.
One of the most remarkable characteristics of design technocracy is that architecture’s authority and autonomy, cultivated by the academic committee and represented by specific project design, was largely respected, despite the conflicts, criticisms and challenges from a wide range of stakeholders. The exterior wall design of the Hongling High School Sports and Arts Center exemplifies this contest over design authority. To emphasize the architectural concept of the building as a transitional element between the campus and the adjacent hill, O-office Architects chose gabion walls for the facade—stones encased in metal mesh, inspired by Herzog & de Meuron's Dominus Winery in California (Figures 14, 15 and 16). This facade could reach a height of 15 meters, challenged established building codes and raised safety concerns. It was rejected by the school client, the construction team, and the public works department. At one point, the design was altered to a conventional aluminum curtain wall, compromising the architect’s original vision. To honor the architects’ intent, Zhou organized coordination meetings with all parties involved. The negotiation resulted in an alternative solution that employed porous limestone as the filling material, but reduced the wall’s weight and addressed safety concerns. This contest over design authority involved each party's rational considerations based on their respective positions—aesthetics, safety, cost, and compliance. The final decision reflects how architectural technocracy was upheld through proactive coordination, challenging negotiations, and mutual compromise.
Figure 14. The gabion walls of Hongling High School Sports and Arts Center by O-office Architects, 2024. Photograph by Cong Sun and Yuhui Song
Figure 15. Aerial view of Hongling High School Sports and Arts Center by O-office Architects, 2024. Photograph by Cong Sun and Yuhui Song
Figure 16. Roof view of Hongling High School Sports and Arts Center by O-office Architects, 2024. Photograph by Cong Sun and Yuhui Song
Conclusion
The new school projects in Shenzhen, promoted by local bureaucrats such as Zhou and facilitated by China’s leading architectural professionals, manifest the extent to which a technocracy in architecture might trigger new forms and practices of building expertise in design and planning management that contrast with the high-profile government-sponsored institutional buildings such as theaters, museums, libraries that have dominated the skylines of many of China’s cities. As the country continues to struggle with issues of housing oversupply and a real estate crisis, encouraging flexible urban planning governance that transcends bureaucratic management on one hand, and the maximization of economic interests on the other, may help in redirecting attention to the potential social and cultural contributions of architecture itself to the making and re-making of healthy, sustainable urban environments.
Citation
Guanghui Ding, “Design Technocracy and New School Architecture in Shenzhen, China,” PLATFORM, February 3, 2025.
Notes
[1] Huang Weiwen, “A Multi-Faceted Counterattack and an Exceptional Insistence,” Architectural Journal, no. 3 (2021): 48-51.
[2] Zhou Hongmei, “Futian New Campus Action Plan: From Hongling Experimental Primary School to the ‘8+1’ Architecture Joint Exhibition,” Time + Architecture, no. 02 (2020):54-61.
[3] Zhou Hongmei, Yang Lijun, Gao Xuexiang, et al, “Matrix and Linkage: Organizational Innovation in the Design of a Cluster of 100 Schools,” Architectural Journal, no. 07 (2023): 1-6.
[4] Zhou Hongmei, “Reshaping Urban Space and Community Texture with Innovative Public Design Management,” Time+Architecture, 2022,(01):54-59.
[5] Zhou Hongmei, “From Instigation to Action: A Review and Reflection on the Mechanism Innovation of the Futian New Campus Action Plan,” Architectural Journal, no. 03 (2021):1-9.
[6] Gu Daqing, “The Futian Experience and Related Reflections,” Architectural Journal, no. 03 (2021): 45-48.
[7] Zhou Hongmei, “School Building Relocation: Mechanism Innovation in the Construction of Shenzhen Futian New Campus,” Architecture Journal, no. 05 (2019): 10-15.
