It’s unlikely French philosopher and playwright Jean-Paul Sartre had airports in mind when he declared that, “Hell is other people.” But then again, he might have. Certainly, he could have. No question the French existentialist’s famous words are borne out by the experience of the sullen hordes tramping through airports around the world or here in Canada; especially here in Canada, as we enter the season of summer travel.
Indeed, other than the torture of air travel itself, airports – the beginning and end of every trip – seem designed to inflict maximum discomfort and dislocation for the traveller. It’s not just the hurry-up-and-wait checking-in process or the indignity of the largely performative security protocols. It’s not just the plastic furniture, or the unabashed retail rip-offs on offer at every turn. What lies at the heart of the horrid airport experience is its near total disconnection from reality. Neither here nor there, airports are all the same but different. They are everywhere, but nowhere.
Architects can’t be blamed entirely for the bloated non-places that modern airports have become, but they bear a major responsibility for the creation of these most liminal of spaces. Their job is to help create an environment based on a series of our assumptions about human behaviour; about who we are and what travellers want.
But are the architects right? Given the generally poor ratings users give airports, it seems not.
The most tedious part of a day at the airport is getting through security. This is the great leveller, where we strip down to go through a hazing process that clears us for entry into the inner sanctum. Though largely ineffective and often called “security theatre” , many experts try to convince us that being patted down, prodded and X-rayed actually prevents terrorism. The irony of airport security is that it — not terrorist attacks — is the greater test of the freedoms we take for granted in countries like Canada.
At the airport, we are guilty until proven innocent.
Once authorities have determined we’re not carrying liquids, don’t have explosives in our shoes or nail scissors in our backpacks, we walk out the other end, free to unleash our inner-consumer. Little wonder airports are little more than shopping malls with terminals, departure gates and waiting rooms attached. Some are better than others, but all seek to profit from that sense that everything is available once we reach the untethered high-oxygen ecosystem of the airport. The restraints of ordinary life no longer apply. Temporary, anonymous, generic yet unavoidable and overwhelming, airports stores are consciously designed to subject us to pressures we normally resist. The $4,000.00 Burberry trench coat beckons, the $3,500 Ralph Lauren jacket, and the perfect Chanel sweater for only $7,000.00. At the airport, we feel rich. And the luxury goods are so close at hand. Besides, there’s nothing else to do, except to sit and wait. Even the (modular) seating is meant to eliminate social interaction and basic human comfort. We are encouraged instead to head for the more form-fitting furniture at the eateries, that occupy so much airport real estate.
People pass through Salt Lake City International Airport, Wednesday, Jan. 11, 2023, in Salt Lake City. The world’s largest aircraft fleet was grounded for hours by a cascading outage in a government system that delayed or canceled thousands of flights across the U.S. (Rick Bowmer/AP Photo)
The successful airports engage passengers quietly, directly and unexpectedly, almost while they’re not looking. Oslo Airport recently collaborated with the Norwegian Museum of Cultural History to mount a mini-exhibition of Viking artefacts unearthed at burial sites across that country. One display case includes seven very serious-looking iron swords, each roughly 1,200 years old. A little farther on, the observant traveller encounters an uncharacteristically cheerful canvas by Norway’s most celebrated (and morose) painter, Edvard Munch, he of The Scream. Even before we leave the terminal, we know exactly where we are.
Compare the power of these small but slyly effective European efforts to the massive Richard Serra sculpture at Toronto Pearson Airport. The California artist’s piece, Tilted Spheres, is so big it had to be installed before the airport walls went up. Though thousands walk through Serra’s magnificent artwork every day, one can’t help but wonder how many passersby actually notice the airport’s attempted showpiece. Other than the children who discover the sculpture has an echo, most travellers are too anxious to look up. It also does nothing to inform you that you have landed in the country of Canada. Strange though it sounds, Serra’s enormous creation, which measures nearly 50 feet tall, is lost in the confusion. Meanwhile, the bust of Prime Minister Lester Pearson (the airport’s namesake) has been relegated to a dark corner and the airport’s inukshuks installation are left outside.
According to Skytrax, which administers the World Airport Awards, Canada’s most successful facility is the Vancouver airport, which this year was named the best in North America, 17th in the world. Montreal came in 53rd, Toronto a distant 63rd. At the same time, however, a Canadian-wide survey put Vancouver at eighth place, two spots below Toronto, one behind Montreal. The winner was John G. Diefenbaker International Airport in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. Clearly, these lists mean little.
The real problem with Canadian airports might have more to do with maintenance and upkeep. The most obvious example is the country’s busiest hub, Toronto’s Pearson Airport, where the first thing passengers are confronted by is a moving sidewalk that doesn’t move. Then there’s a second one, also out of order. After that comes a stationary escalator. Nothing seems to work. Finally, on their way out of the baggage carousel hall, suitcases in tow, exhausted international travellers must line up one last time with hundreds of impatient fellow sufferers waiting to hand their customs form to the single worker on duty. On the other side of the hall, a small gaggle of staffers sit chatting, oblivious to the chaos unfolding around them.
Long gone are the days when getting there was half the fun. Today, travel is something to be endured, not enjoyed. The fun doesn’t begin until the travel ends.
Christopher Hume was the architecture critic and urban issues columnist of the Toronto Star from 1982 to 2016. During that time, he…
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