---

Science, Technology and Engineering

My Lords, I am very grateful for those kind words. The noble Viscount, Lord Montgomery, and I have debated for many years on a variety of subjects but this, I believe, is the first time we have ever been on the same side. I am very glad of it; it might happen again—who can tell? I am pleased that my noble friend Lord Haskel raised this subject, because engineering has been my life and is not really debated in this House or the other place nearly often enough. It is interesting to note that the earlier debate today on the contribution of the creative industries drew a full house in this Chamber, whereas the discussion of engineering is listened to by only a select few. That is the norm, and it is what I am going to talk about. First, I declare my interest as a fellow of the Institution of Civil Engineers and an honorary fellow of a variety of other institutions of the same kind. I spent more than 20 years in consulting engineering as an engineering designer, followed by 25 or so years as an engineering journalist—something in which I still dabble in a small way. I believe that my monthly column in the Highways magazine has four readers, one of whom is the editor. I do not know who the other three are. I want to talk not just about the contribution that science and engineering make to the United Kingdom, which has been well rehearsed by other noble Lords, but about whether that contribution is properly recognised and, if not, what, if anything, can be done to remedy that. We know that generally speaking, with the construction industry rather than engineering as a whole, when a notable building such as the Millennium Dome is discussed in the press, its design is attributed to the architect—in this case, my noble friend Lord Rogers. There is a sense in which the architect is entitled to some recognition for the dome, which is not a dome at all, of course. Why it has been called a dome, I do not know, as it actually looks like a saucer turned upside down. It is really a big top, such as Bertram Mills used to have, or a tent or marquee. However, let us call it a dome, as that is what the press likes to call it, although engineers prefer to describe it differently. The real designers of the dome were not the architects, however much they put into it, but Buro Happold. It is a complete engineering structure. There are many more such examples. The lead designer of the Millennium Bridge, which wobbles, was not the noble Lord, Lord Foster, but Adams. I noticed that the noble Lord, Lord Foster, came forward with a certain amount of verve on the opening day, raising his arms as he does, but that when it started to wobble he ran for his life and said that this was really a matter for Arup—which was true. There is also the Pompidou Centre, which was really designed by Ted Happold and Peter Rice, again of Arup, which again invited Richard Rogers and Piano to come in as architects to help to complete the building. Just down the road is Waterloo Bridge, which, in every guidebook, is described as having been designed by that very eminent architect Sir Giles Gilbert Scott, who was actually employed by the engineers Rendel, Palmer and Tritton, with which I spent 13 happy years when I was younger, although not under Waterloo Bridge. It is interesting that people think of Waterloo Bridge as a kind of arch structure when it consists of two horizontal reinforced concrete box girders, screened by a kind of façade, which is presumably the architect’s work. During the war a temporary handrail was put on the bridge and the official history of Rendel, Palmer and Tritton says: ""The elegance of the free flowing clean design was preserved when it was decided to leave in place the simple tubular handrail, erected as a temporary wartime economy, in place of the ornate railing of the original design and also to omit the arches over the approaches as earlier proposed by Sir Giles"." The architect was in that case luckily unable to carry out his plans. What could be done to improve recognition in the press, the media as a whole and in this Parliament? There is a remedy at hand: in 1988, Parliament passed the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, which brought into our law a continental notion called the moral right—that is, to be recognised as the designer or author of a piece of work. In the case of a book, it is quite simple: the author puts a paragraph in the flyleaf saying that he asserts the right to be regarded as the author of the book. When the Bill came before this House in 1987, the moral right was extended beyond books, musical composition and so on to include architecture and structural design. The Bill said that the architect had the right to assert his moral right to be regarded as the designer. Efforts were made in the House to change that part of the Bill so that it said "architect or engineer". While the idea was welcomed on the government side, it somehow seemed inappropriate to put the word "engineer" into the Bill. So, instead, Whitehall in its wisdom deleted the word "architect" and inserted the word "author". In later debates during the passage of the Bill, "author" was defined as being either the architect or the engineer, although that never got on to the face of the Bill; had it done, a great deal of confusion would have been avoided. It is up to engineers to assert their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. They have to do this apparently in writing. That is where it becomes a little difficult again because it is hard to know who to write to. Obviously you write to the owner of the building, whoever that happens to be. You may, like Martin Luther, nail a letter to the door of some place or another and assert your right there, or put a letter around a lamp post the way that planning authorities do, and assert your right in that way. I would like the Minister to explain the mechanics by which that should be done. I have one last word. Some years ago, I was at an event in the Great Hall of the British Museum, which is ascribed to Norman Foster once again. His bit is very good, but the bit of the Great Hall that is of real interest is the roof, which is a very complicated structure, designed once again by Buro Happold of Bath. I noticed that the names of Foster and Spencer De Grey, one of his partners who did the principal design of that building, were then inscribed on the wall of the Great Hall. I suggested to the director that it would be a good idea if the name of Buro Happold were added. He agreed that this was a very good idea and then retired the following day. I then spent some considerable effort, with the agreement of Buro Happold, Norman Foster and Spencer De Grey, to get that name added to the inscription on the wall. Unfortunately, the members of staff of the British Museum kept retiring. I am happy to say that last year the name of Buro Happold was added to the Great Hall, as it should have been originally. It only took seven years to get it done. I sincerely hope that future engineers can achieve such events more rapidly than I was able to do.