A nighttime rendering of the banquet hall in the winning design for the presidential office complex in Sejong. The proposal won the design competition, but the final detailed design is still in progress.NATIONAL AGENCY FOR ADMINISTRATIVE CITY CONSTRUCTION
Yoon Seung-hyun
The author is a professor at Chung-Ang University’s School of Architecture and Building Science.
At a government performance briefing in June, President Lee Jae Myung said the presidential office planned for Sejong “will symbolize Korea at home and abroad and must remain for generations.” He added that the responsibility was so great that he could not readily define its architectural concept. Yet Lee has already suggested its essence.
At a meeting with senior presidential aides in February, Lee proposed eliminating cafeterias at public institutions relocated outside Seoul so employees would patronize nearby restaurants and help local businesses. Translated into architectural and urban terms, his remark offers a clear principle: Public institutions should be integrated into the urban fabric and form networks organically connected to public spaces within a 10-minute walk.
Lee thus offered a starting point for the office’s symbolism: connection with citizens’ lives. The problem is that this philosophy was not clearly conveyed as a concrete criterion in the government’s design competition.
The administration has promised to be a “government that works.” It could have articulated how it wants officials to work, then translated those expectations into architectural standards governing the building’s scale, organization and character. That could have become the starting point for an identity befitting Korea’s presidential office.
No. 10 Downing Street, the British prime minister’s official residence, was originally built as a town house 300 years ago and resembles an ordinary home. It has become a powerful symbol of British democracy: The prime minister is not the nation’s ruler but a servant of its people. The Eiffel Tower in Paris faced fierce public opposition when it was built. Over time, it became a source of French pride and a global symbol.
Symbolism does not arise simply from an architect’s creativity or experience. It emerges from public empathy, social consensus and the image an era creates of itself. Architectural symbolism is therefore not something someone can define and impose. It is a system of meaning that develops naturally as society’s values become embedded in a building. That is why the process matters.
Lee recently instructed his Cabinet to “make every effort” to open the era of the Sejong presidential office during his term and to hold his final Cabinet meeting there. Responding to the president’s determination, the National Agency for Administrative City Construction has pledged early completion.
From an urban and architectural perspective, that is risky. If the goal, as Lee says, is an enduring building that embodies national dignity and pride, there are values far more important than meeting a predetermined deadline. The agency chief’s proposal to shorten the design and construction period is a troubling sign.
The winning design for the Sejong presidential office was announced in July. But selecting a competition winner merely establishes the project’s vision and direction. Turning that vision into architecture requires a process of deliberation, adjustment, technical review and verification. Compressing that process amounts to surrendering the opportunity for the architecture to mature and acquire depth.
The same applies to construction. With sufficient determination, a building planned for two years might be erected in one. But a presidential office is not a warehouse. It must embody national identity, represent the country’s stature and remain a source of civic pride. It should be a building that leaves room for regret even after craftspeople have devoted their utmost care to it.
It is not too late. No one takes the first step toward the future knowing every turn along the route. Behind the grandeur of historic buildings lie countless trials, errors and hardships. The saying “the devil is in the details” carries truth in architecture.
Good architecture begins amid uncertainty. It absorbs cooperation and debate among members of society, learns from repeated mistakes and gradually discovers the right path. The best approach is to give architects room to work and create conditions in which craftspeople can build with patience, skill and dedication. A presidential office intended to endure for generations should not be rushed merely to fit the political calendar of one administration.
This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of generative AI tools. It was then edited by a native English-speaking editor. All AI-assisted translations are reviewed and refined by our newsroom.
