Reconstructing

Dialectic
Justin Ferrugia
In 1989, the Loma Prieta earthquake
nearly destroyed St. Dominic’s Catholic
Church in San Francisco, California. The
Gothic church, originally constructed
between 1923 and 1948, is the seat of the
western province Dominican order—an
important church, and one that could
not be lost without a fight. Since 1984,
engineers had determined that the
brittle stone construction of the church
made it seismically unstable—and if it
was to persist until the next generation,
it would have to be reinforced. Most
modern methods of earthquake
fortification involve complex systems
of subterranean springs and slides that
allow the earth to move underneath a
building that remains stationary. This
was not an option for St. Dominic’s, as it
would essentially require the demolition
and reconstruction of the church—an
endeavor antithetical to the restoration.
The solution devised by engineers was
nothing short of medieval: they proposed
the construction of nine flying buttresses
to shore up the cathedral’s walls. [1]
Flying buttresses are an engineering
tool used since at least the 4th century
which provide lateral stability to the tall,
ill supported walls that exist in many
cathedrals. In the Gothic era, these
buttresses were used to counteract the
outward lateral force provided by the
vaulted ceiling.
As construction methods and materials
improved, the flying buttress was no
longer needed and became largely
obsolete. It was a cornerstone of the
Western architectural tradition that,
because of progress and advancement,
was no longer needed and was discarded.
Yet, in 1989, in a situation of exception,
architects and engineers used this relic
of a past time—a bygone tradition—to
reinforce and insure the longevity of a
modern structure.
Tradition is a complicated and fraught
subject. In the science of engineering,
when the central question, “does it
work?” is answered objectively by the
principles of static equilibrium, it can be
easy to revive methods that our current
age has discarded. But, in the realm of
human interaction, society, politics, and
the institutions that govern our lives and
behavior, the answer to the question
“does it work?” is far more difficult to
decipher.
The example of St. Dominic’s Church,
however, reframes the question: how
do we know when a tradition that has
been discarded can be useful to solve a
modern problem?
HOW DO WE KNOW
WHEN A TRADITION
THAT HAS BEEN
DISCARDED CAN BE
USEFUL TO SOLVE A
MODERN PROBLEM?
There is an increasing tendency to reject
traditions of the past wholeheartedly to
the point that we refuse to—or perhaps,
more modestly, are uninterested in—
studying. Much of this is justified.
Human suffering has been reduced.
The forces of inequality have been
weakened. Progress exists, but despite
the modernists’ best efforts, it is not
always linear. How, then, do we decide
which traditions to keep and which
should go? Furthermore, how do we
determine which situations call for a
return to a prior tradition? Or, in other
words, when progress can only come
about through a reclamation of prior
values or traditions?
In the Catholic Church after the 1960s
and the Second Vatican Council, this
question has plagued the mind of
the faithful and the clergy alike, often
leading to bitter disputes and even
schisms between the so-called orthodox
and heterodox, or between the “radtrads”
(short for radical traditionalists)
and the “reformists.” These debates are
often destructive.
But even outside the Church, these
are questions society must continually
wrestle with. But how? I hope here
to build a framework, much like the
framework used by engineers, by which
we can evaluate norms and traditions of
the past and present, and decide what
practices to reinstitute.
Certainly, moral disagreement exists.
And in a world where sociocultural
norms are rapidly changing, much
discord emerges when individuals do not
understand the reason for the rejection
of traditions. We all consume literature,
music, laws, common opinions, and sage
sayings—and unite these through our
lived experience. Diverse perspectives
are bound to emerge and if we cannot
Reconstructing: Fall 2022