Architects Are Unionizing — and It’s Shaking Up the Industry

In the fall of 2021, a group of exhausted architects at a prominent New York City firm decided they had finally had enough. For years, they had tolerated the profession’s unwritten contract – low pay, long hours, and the so-called “passion tax” of creative labor – in exchange for the prestige of working in elite design. But on a December morning, employees at SHoP Architects stunned the industry by announcing plans to unionize. It was a groundbreaking moment: architecture, a field that for decades had seen itself as the realm of dedicated professionals rather than organized workers, was now facing a genuine labor movement. The news that SHoP’s staff were seeking to join the International Association of Machinists and Aerospace Workers sent shockwaves through studios everywhere. For the first time in living memory, architects were openly attempting to band together like autoworkers or teachers, demanding a better deal from their employer. This unprecedented union drive was a direct response to pressures that had been building for years and that only intensified during the COVID-19 pandemic. In the early 2020s – amid pandemic disruptions, “great resignation” career reevaluations, and a surge of labor activism across many industries – architectural workers began openly challenging the conditions they had long been expected to accept as normal.

The organizing effort at SHoP Architects quickly became a focal point for conversations about architectural labor practices. Here were employees of a high-profile firm – designers of glitzy projects from Manhattan skyscrapers to tech campuses – speaking out about chronic overtime, stagnating salaries, crushing student debt, and a workplace culture that glorified endurance over balance. Their grievances were familiar to anyone who has spent time in an architecture office: weeks of 60- to 80-hour work, no overtime pay, and relatively modest compensation even for those with advanced degrees and professional licenses. In posters and interviews, the SHoP employees voiced frustrations that had long been whispered in the studio: “Because the industry won’t pay my student loans,” read one slogan, and another, “Because the environment deserves better care than my exhaustion.” Such messages resonated with architects far beyond SHoP. The employees framed their fight not just in personal terms but as a stand for the profession’s future – “SHoP is the firm that can begin to enact changes that will ensure a healthier and equitable future,” one organizer told the press. There was a sense that if a venerated practice like SHoP could unionize, it might light the way for systemic change in an industry notorious for taking advantage of its workers’ dedication.

Historically, few architects had ever unionized – the last notable attempt in the U.S. dates back to the mid-20th century – and the profession’s culture has generally discouraged collective action. Architecture has long cultivated a romantic self-image: the architect as a passionate artist-craftsman, a white-collar creative whose long hours are a noble commitment to the craft, not mere “labor.” This ethos, rooted in the old atelier system of master and apprentices, helped shield architecture offices from the union movement that swept other fields in the 20th century. Many architects internalized the idea that theirs was a calling, not a job – unions were for construction crews and factory workers, not for educated design professionals. As a result, despite chronic overwork and relatively low pay, generations of young architects were tacitly expected to endure a kind of rite of passage: the all-nighter charrettes, the weekend deadlines, the “glory” of working for famous designers often with little voice or credit. This patriarchal studio culture, as critics have noted, erected artificial distinctions – separating “creative” work from ordinary labor – that kept talk of unions off the table. In short, architects were taught to see themselves as privileged to be in the profession, making them less likely to see themselves as workers with rights. But by 2021, that old narrative was breaking down. A new generation of architects, facing skyrocketing living costs and student loans, were less inclined to sacrifice their well-being for the aura of the job. The pandemic, which forced a pause and reckoning with work-life boundaries, only accelerated this shift. Architects – it was now clear – are indeed workers, and they were beginning to assert that fact.

To understand the depth of frustration driving these reforms, one need only compare the lot of architects to that of other learned professionals such as lawyers or doctors. Architects invest just as much time in education and training – often five to seven years of university study, followed by multi-year internships and a grueling licensure process – yet their financial and professional rewards lag dramatically behind. An entry-level lawyer at a big firm or a medical resident at a hospital will typically earn significantly more than an architecture graduate putting in similar 80-hour weeks. Even mid-career, the salary gap is striking: seasoned architects often make roughly half of what their counterparts in law or medicine take home, despite shouldering comparable levels of responsibility. Unlike medical and legal fields, architecture also lacks robust early-career support systems and clear pathways to stability. Newly minted lawyers, for instance, might join structured associate programs with high pay and mentorship, and doctors undergo residency and fellowship with standardized training (and, increasingly, union representation for residents). In contrast, architecture’s early career is notoriously precarious – many young architects hop between short-term positions or unpaid internships, cobbling together experience with relatively low compensation. The profession’s culture has tolerated practices – unpaid overtime, “exempt” salaried positions with no extra pay for extra hours, and even periods of unpaid work – that would be unthinkable in other high-skill fields. All of this has eroded architects’ sense of fairness and financial security over time.

The disparities go beyond salary and training. Architects also bear unique professional risks and liabilities that other professionals are far better buffered from. If a building design fails or a serious construction error is traced back to the drawings, the architect of record can be held personally liable for the consequences. Yet architects do not enjoy the same protective frameworks that doctors or lawyers have established for their own liability. Physicians typically carry malpractice insurance (often provided or mandated by their employers or hospitals) to shield them from personal financial ruin in case of a lawsuit, and lawyers likewise have the backing of firm-sponsored malpractice coverage or bar association programs. In architecture, however, the safety nets are alarmingly thin. Many architecture firms invest more in business property insurance – to protect their offices, computers, and equipment – than in insurance for the professional practice itself. It is not unusual for a design firm to carry only minimal professional liability coverage, or to have policies that primarily protect the company’s owners while leaving individual architects exposed. An employed architect might sign and seal drawings for years without knowing whether a mistake could come back to haunt their personal finances or license. In the event of a construction defect lawsuit, an individual architect can be named alongside the firm, and if the firm’s insurance is inadequate (or if the firm dissolves), that architect may find their personal assets and career on the line. This imbalance – companies readily insuring their property and profits, but not always the people executing the work – underscores a broader feeling among architects that the profession’s structures do not sufficiently value or protect its workforce. It’s a bitter irony: the physical office is safeguarded against disaster, but the architects themselves often are not. Such conditions have contributed to a growing sense that architects must demand better protection, whether through stronger contracts, professional reforms, or collective action.

It was against this backdrop of simmering discontent that the SHoP Architects union drive emerged as a beacon of hope. The campaign at SHoP did not ultimately succeed – after a flurry of publicity and initial support, the effort was withdrawn in early 2022, with organizers citing a fierce anti-union campaign by management that sowed fear and division among staff. The firm’s leadership, while professing to value employees, hired outside consultants and held mandatory meetings that undermined the union effort. Within weeks, enough employees had lost confidence or left the firm such that the organizers pulled their petition to avoid a likely defeat in the official vote. It was a bitter setback, but not a fatal one for the nascent movement. In fact, the bold attempt at SHoP turned out to be the catalyst for wider action. The very public nature of that effort – widely reported in industry media and even mainstream news – broke a taboo. Suddenly, the subject of unions in architecture was out in the open. Architects around the country took notice, and discussions that might once have been confined to late-night rants or anonymous surveys were now happening on social media, in professional forums, and at firm lunch tables. The genie was out of the bottle: if one group of private-sector architects could attempt to unionize, others could too. And they did.

In the wake of SHoP’s drive, a broader campaign called Architectural Workers United (AWU) had already been laying groundwork to help organize architects at other offices. AWU – a grassroots network aligned with the Machinists union – reported that it was in talks with employees at numerous firms across New York and beyond. The movement soon notched a historic victory. In September 2022, the 22 employees of Bernheimer Architecture, a small but highly regarded studio in Brooklyn, announced that they had formed a union – and their firm’s principal, Andrew Bernheimer, voluntarily recognized it. This was a milestone: the first formal union at a private-sector architecture firm in the United States in nearly 80 years. That it happened at Bernheimer Architecture was in some ways surprising and in other ways illustrative. Bernheimer is known for progressive values and a healthy office culture; it was hardly a sweatshop environment. The staff there emphasized that they already enjoyed a relatively respectful workplace with better work-life balance than the norm. Yet, they saw unionizing as a proactive step – a way to codify those good conditions, gain a collective voice in any future decisions, and set an example for the industry. Their successful organization showed that even “good” firms are not immune to the desire for a seat at the table. It also proved that unionization in architecture was not only possible, but achievable without tearing a firm apart. Bernheimer’s choice to recognize the union without a drawn-out legal battle stood in stark contrast to SHoP’s approach, and it gave hope that other enlightened leaders might follow suit. As one Bernheimer employee-turned-union-organizer put it, working together through a union would allow them to “uplift the profession and industry in ways that we could not by acting alone.” For Andrew Bernheimer’s part, he remarked that “architecture is a discipline and profession that has a legacy of exploitation,” tacitly acknowledging the broader issue the union aimed to address. By the end of 2022, the Bernheimer Architecture (BA) Union had affiliated with the Machinists and begun negotiating a contract, bargaining over wages, benefits, and policies in a manner almost unheard-of in private architecture practice.

Momentum continued into 2023. In New York, a second studio followed the path blazed by Bernheimer. In the summer of 2023, employees at Sage and Coombe Architects, a mid-sized firm, unanimously requested union recognition after quietly organizing their colleagues. In another encouraging development, the firm’s partners agreed and voluntarily recognized the union. This made Sage and Coombe the second private U.S. architecture firm to unionize. Its staff, like Bernheimer’s, were motivated by industry-wide “systemic concerns” – from inequitable pay to burnout – and also by a desire to have an active role in shaping their office’s future. Organizers there noted that discussions about improving practice had been percolating informally for a long time, but unionizing provided a formal framework to address those concerns collectively. The fact that these unions formed with the blessing of their firm’s leadership suggests that a cooperative model is possible, at least in smaller practices where owners and employees share a more familial rapport. It’s a very different picture from the traditional adversarial union story – here the bosses essentially said, “yes, we hear you, let’s do this together.” Such cases remain exceptions, but they offer a glimpse of how labor relations in architecture could evolve toward a more collaborative ethos in offices that embrace change.

Not all attempts have been successful, however, especially at larger firms. In May 2023, designers at the U.S. studio of Snøhetta – a global architecture powerhouse – launched a unionization bid that grabbed headlines as the first at a firm of its international stature. The move was bold: Snøhetta’s New York office has a few dozen employees and a portfolio of high-profile cultural projects. The organizers saw unionization as a path to address workload and pay concerns, much as their peers at smaller firms had. But by that summer, after a vigorous anti-union response from management, the effort narrowly fell short. In a secret-ballot election, a majority of Snøhetta’s staff voted against unionizing, reportedly swayed by weeks of campaigning by leadership and an outside law firm. The outcome was a reminder that many firm owners – particularly at big corporate offices – remain deeply resistant to employee unions, and they are willing to fight hard to discourage them. Organizers from AWU have noted that these anti-union tactics in architecture mirror those seen in other industries: mandatory meetings, warnings of lost clients or damaged office “culture,” and implicit threats to job security. The Snøhetta vote, like SHoP’s withdrawal, underscored the challenges architectural unions still face, especially in companies that view the union as a threat to management’s control or the firm’s competitive edge. Even so, the fact that employees at such a prominent practice attempted to unionize at all was significant – it signaled that the conversation has penetrated into firms of all sizes. What was once unthinkable in architecture is now part of the discourse. Each publicized effort, whether it wins or loses, seems to inspire new groups of architects to consider organizing in their workplaces.

Beyond unionization, the push for architecture labor reform has been taking other forms as well. Many practitioners are calling for industry-wide standards to address long-standing issues like unpaid overtime and toxic work cultures. There is a growing advocacy for transparency in salary and promotion practices, supported by things like anonymous salary surveys and social media accounts that spotlight inequities. Professional organizations and licensure boards, once relatively silent on labor issues, have also begun to acknowledge the problem. The American Institute of Architects (AIA), for instance, released data during the pandemic showing that architect salaries were essentially flat in recent years, growing on average only 0.3% per year – far behind the 2–3% annual increases seen in other professions. Such statistics have bolstered the case that architecture’s compensation has not kept up with its demands, adding an air of legitimacy to employees’ complaints. Even the AIA – traditionally focused more on design excellence and business advocacy than on workers’ rights – has had to address member concerns about burnout and attrition in the field. Meanwhile, independent groups like The Architecture Lobby have spent the past decade agitating for just labor practices, campaigning to end exploitative norms such as unpaid internships and to promote a living wage for all architectural workers. The Lobby and other activist networks were early voices urging architects to see themselves as part of the labor movement. They championed initiatives like “Just Design,” a pledge for firms to uphold fair labor standards, and supported legislation like the PRO Act to strengthen unions nationally. While these efforts were once on the fringe of the profession, they now find a much more receptive audience. In 2022, for example, the Architecture Lobby helped bring the issue of unionization to center stage by supporting events, panels, and publicity around the SHoP and Bernheimer campaigns. What was once a lonely fight by a few idealists has become a broader mainstream conversation about how to make architectural practice more equitable and sustainable as a career.

It is still too early to tell how far this nascent labor movement in architecture will go, but its impact is already being felt. The successful union contracts at small firms like Bernheimer Architecture – whose union members ratified their first collective bargaining agreement in 2023, securing better pay and benefits – set important precedents that other studios can look to. There is talk of employees at other firms, in multiple cities, quietly organizing and comparing notes. At the very least, firm leaders are now aware that disillusioned staff might reach for the union playbook if pushed too far. This awareness alone is prompting some employers to proactively improve conditions in order to dissuade unrest, raising salaries, offering flexible hours or remote work options, and paying closer attention to workload in order to retain talent. In parallel, the cultural conversation is shifting: younger architects are openly questioning the ethic of self-sacrifice that the profession once demanded. Increasingly, architects are asserting that caring about design excellence and caring about fair labor practices are not mutually exclusive – in fact, they go hand in hand, since a profession that burns out its best people cannot sustain creative quality in the long run. As one organizer noted, architects design solutions for clients’ problems every day; now they are finally applying that problem-solving to their own industry’s ills.

The move toward unionization and labor reform in architecture is fundamentally about rebalancing power and respect. It’s about architects asserting that their work – the creativity, technical skill, and countless hours they pour into shaping our built environment – has value, and that this value must be recognized not just in awards or magazine features, but in the basic terms of their employment. It means expecting to have a voice in decisions that affect their lives, from reasonable project deadlines to adequate insurance coverage for their professional liability. It means insisting that architecture be a viable long-term profession for people of all backgrounds, not a luxury for those who can afford to weather years of underpaid dues-paying. This is a pivotal change of mindset. For so long, the narrative was that if you truly love architecture, you accept the sacrifices – the late nights, the lower pay, the capricious nature of the business – and you keep quiet. That social contract is being rewritten. The rising generation of architects is saying that love for the work does not justify exploitation, and that one can be passionate about design while also demanding fairness and dignity on the job.

As of 2025, the movement remains in its early chapters. Only a handful of private firms have unionized, and many more will likely need to do so to really shift the industry’s standards. There are still plenty of skeptics within architecture who question how unions will function in design studios, or whether collective bargaining will truly address issues like low fees and long hours that are partly rooted in how architectural services are valued by clients. Some firm owners worry that union rules could stifle the flexibility and close-knit culture that many small offices pride themselves on, or that unionized firms will be at a competitive disadvantage if their labor costs rise. These debates will continue to play out as more case studies emerge. But whatever the ultimate extent of unionization, it’s undeniable that a new consciousness now exists among architectural workers. The genie is indeed out of the bottle. Discussions of fairness, mental health, and work-life balance are no longer taboo in architecture offices; they are front and center. And the idea that architects are “workers” who can assert their rights has entered the mainstream of the profession’s dialogue.

In the coming years, the architecture community will be watching closely to see if the reforms sparked after 2021 take hold. Will more firms follow the lead of Bernheimer and Sage and Coombe, negotiating modern workplace standards with their staff? Will larger corporate firms find ways to give employees a greater voice, whether through unions or internal reforms, to avoid losing talent? Will professional bodies like the AIA step up with stronger guidelines on employment practices, or perhaps programs to support young architects in the way medical residencies do? The answers will shape architecture’s ability to attract and retain the bright minds it needs. One thing is certain: the conversation about labor in architecture is irrevocably changed. A profession that once looked the other way on labor abuses is now confronting them, driven by those within its ranks who love architecture too much to let its workers continue to be undervalued. This ongoing labor reckoning is about architects taking ownership of their profession in a new way – not just through design leadership, but through workplace democracy and mutual support. In doing so, they are laying the foundation for a healthier architectural practice built on respect, equity, and genuine sustainability for the people who bring our buildings to life.

Sources and Further Reading

• Noam Scheiber, “Architects at a New York Firm Form the Industry’s Only Private-Sector Union.” The New York Times, Sept. 1, 2022.
• Paula Cano, “New York Studio Bernheimer Architecture Forms the First (Only) Private-Sector Union in the US.” ArchDaily, Sept. 6, 2022.
• Kriston Capps, “Architects Push to Unionize Over Salary, Hours, and Student Debt.” Bloomberg News/CityLab, May 17, 2022.
• Martin C. Pedersen, “I Felt It Was the Right Thing To Do.” Common Edge, Sept. 21, 2022. Interview with Andrew Bernheimer
• Madeleine D’Angelo, “Workers at Sage and Coombe Architects Unionize.” Architect Magazine, Sept. 14, 2023.
• Anjulie Rao, “The First Private Sector Architecture Union in the U.S. Ratifies Its Agreement.” Dwell, 2023.
• Alex Press & Andrew Daley, “Architects Are Toiling Under Brutal Working Conditions.” Jacobin, May 2023. Interview with an AWU organizer
• Je’Nen Chastain Siqueira, “Why My Coworkers and I Unionized Our Architecture Firm.” Jacobin, Oct. 19, 2024.
• The Architecture Lobby, “Architectural Workers United (AWU) Campaign.” architecture-lobby.org, 2022. Resources and news on architecture unionization