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This study explores building code negotiation between straw bale advocates’
ecology-oriented values and health and safety values that underlie building
codes in general by focusing on how values and ethics are articulated and
embodied in practice and discourse in the two states where straw bale build-
ing standards were first initiated. The local, contingent nature of interactions,
grounded in particular practices, material culture, and written and visual texts
in which values were embedded, coupled with organizational factors con-
tributed to strategies for a prescriptive code in Arizona and for a performance
code in New Mexico. Examination of situated practice in standards develop-
ment for unconventional materials that may not fit well with practices based
on conventional technologies sheds light on how norms associated with the
ethics of safe building are enmeshed in existing practice where they can be
taken for granted as ethical absolutes and illustrates the kinds of insights
available through paying attention to ethics in practice.
Whatever attitude and expectations you take into the building department that’s
what you will find. If you go looking for a fight there will be one waiting for you.
But if you go looking for help and in a cooperative mood with an expectation
you will get help, the odds go way up you are more likely to have that kind of
experience, depending on who you are. They can be whoever you expect them to
be and it will be based on how they are treated in that relationship.
—David Eisenberg
Author’s Note: My appreciation to the National Science Foundation, Ethics and Values Studies
Division for funding for this research. Background research was funded by the Lemelson Center for
the Study of Invention and Innovation at the National Museum of American History, Smithsonian
Institution, and the Texas A&M Program to Enhance Scholarly and Creative Activities.
261
as well as a few located in Canada, Russia, and France. Today, the straw
bale registry lists approximately 1,020 straw bale structures worldwide,
most built after 2000.3
the events of that period. These data collection methods facilitated capturing
some of the multiple perspectives of participants involved in the code-
building process through citations from their own accounts: in Arizona,
reviewing documents with the founders of “Out on Bale,” the original straw
bale information dissemination network, and in New Mexico, reviewing
archives with the official who served as mediator between activists, build-
ing officials, and the home builders’ lobby. Obviously, not all perspectives
are represented here, but the multiple perspectives provided enable the
reader to become aware of some part of the complexity of the various net-
works and negotiations engaged here.
The late 1960s and early 1970s brought both a counterculture and
professional interest in innovative and vernacular building, often using
recycled or waste materials. An early example of research on such folk and
vernacular Nebraska architecture was Roger Welsch’s (1973) one-page,
illustrated article “Baled Hay” in the book of essays titled Shelter. Straw
bale lore credits Welsch’s one short article as doing more to launch the
straw bale building revival than any other single factor. Of course, any such
information must enter a fertile environment to have an impact. Straw bale
activists have drawn on historical materials from Welsch and their own
research to create a historical discourse of legitimation. The 1970s were a
period of questioning authority on all fronts, including in architecture. It
was also the period in which ecological concerns were more widely intro-
duced to the public. The ethos of the 1960s and 1970s rebellious years is an
important factor here. For it was at this juncture that two different groups,
both still important to the 1990s straw bale movement, with two very dif-
ferent sets of values set off in different directions. One, the rebellious coun-
terculture, disenchanted with the status quo, went its own way, off the
beaten path, experimenting with, among other things, building with inex-
pensive, recycled, and found materials.4 In the meantime, architectural
innovators and those who simply wanted to build shelter as cheaply as pos-
sible began experimenting with straw bales as a building material, drawing
on Welsh’s article. But historic information by itself was not enough infor-
mation to actually build a straw bale house.
In 1991, when Matts Myhrman and Judy Knox, primary leaders in the
straw bale movement, decided to employ the new technique that they had
Knox: You’ve got to be sourced by something other than straw bale con-
struction . . . you’ve got to have a broader context that it connects to, that
excites you and makes you want to get up every morning and do the
drudge work, because the work is 99 percent drudge. The thing that is dri-
ving you is not the drudge; it’s something very different. . . . I think there’s
been a very underlying, I speak for me personally, source of planetary
awareness—of saying: We need to dramatically change the way we meet
our basic needs as human beings because we are consuming the planet.
There will not be enough of the planet left for our grandchildren.
Myhrmann: You won’t find that in any other building technology movement.
That these people who are leading it are driven by a much larger, I think,
awareness. They see straw bale construction as beautiful in itself and a
very interesting technology, but its real power and excitement is it relates
so well to many of the planetary problems.
Asked to articulate the values that drove his participation in the code devel-
opment, David Eisenberg, the other primary activist in Tucson, emphasized
the building of trust between straw bale and code communities: “People
have this sort of image of building officials as being these petty bureaucrats
and tyrants . . . basically forcing people to do all sorts of things they don’t
want to do, and in many cases that is what’s going on. They also are, as we
have begun to call them, a caring community, a group of people who takes
extremely seriously their responsibility of protecting the public welfare
from the building environment.”
The discourse of ecological responsibility worked in Tucson where
openness to seeing and exploring something new for ecological and eco-
nomic reasons seemed to permeate both the building office and the straw
bale advocate groups from the beginning. Building officials, after initial,
rather jovial amazement, engaged in a willingness to seriously consider
straw bale technology and to advise on a homemade testing endeavor.
Straw bale advocates, with a very minimal budget and a large amount of
creativity, managed to produce the required testing. Before discussing these
tests, it is useful to consider the origins of building code officials’ discourse
of health and safety.
Our mission was to protect consumers from bad construction, old laws, or old
building codes and to update. We were more or less a consumer advocate and
represented all the people as to functions and performance of the construc-
tion industry. (Retired CID counsel member, NM)
Number one, the primary function of the building codes is to provide a safe
building. . . . I believe that if it can be shown that a material can meet the
structural and fire safety provisions of the code, what difference does it make
what the material is? (Leroy Sayre, retired chief building official, Tucson, AZ)
Leroy Sayre, then Tucson chief building official, recounts his first encounter
with Matts Myhrman and the introduction of straw bales as a serious build-
ing technique.
Matts Myhrman came into the office and wanted to know if the county would
consider straw bale construction. My first reaction was: which one of the
little pigs are you? We still get a chuckle over that. But the more I thought
about it the more I thought there was a possibility that something could be
done. I spent my summers as a youngster in Ohio at my grandfather’s farm
and we used to stack up bales of hay and it was nice and cool [inside the
structure] in the summer. So the more I thought about it, the more I thought
well, gee, we stack up bricks, why can’t we stack up straw bales? . . . I started
thinking back on that and I thought there should be no reason if things were
done so the structural forces referred to in the codes were accounted for, there
is a possibility that any material could be used, not only straw bales. If you
could meet the forces in the code with any kind of material, I think a build-
ing official should be willing to at least consider the possibility of whatever
the alternative material is.
Aside from his cultural sympathy for straw bales, based on his boyhood
farm days, when Sayre says, if things were “done so the structural forces
for categorization, the straw bale wall is actually a hybrid when built into a
building. The roof and floor on a straw bale house are standard, but the way
they are tied into the wall is not. The electrical wiring is standard, but the
need for all wires to be sheathed in plastic pipe and the way switch and out-
let boxes are mounted to protect the straw bales from any potential short is
different. Windows and doors are standard, but the framing for them is not,
especially on a load-bearing wall for which some sort of heavy lintel is used
to carry the weight of the wall and roof above any openings. In light of all
this uncertainty, testing was the only answer.
Straw bale advocates built wall structures for three tests, advised by build-
ing officials that the walls needed to be tested for load, wind sheer, and lateral
sheer. A small amount of funds was raised through the straw bale network,
and the straw bale advocates built the apparatus using borrowed materials.
Eisenberg and Myhrman worked closely with local officials to coordinate a
structural wall-testing program conducted by an engineering graduate student,
Ghailene Bou-Ali, from Tunisia, recruited from the University of Arizona. The
straw bale team built the apparatus to test load, wind sheer, and lateral sheer.
Under the watchful eyes of building officials, Eisenberg, Myhrman, and crew
built a bleacher-like apparatus with numerous pails, attached by pulleys with
ropes running through the bales in an assembled straw bale wall and held by
boards on the opposite side to test for vertical loading. The pails were then
loaded with sand to apply force to the wall. For the in-plane sheer test, bags of
cement were used as a weight pulling against the wall. For the compression
test, a scalelike apparatus with slings the length of the wall on each side were
loaded with layer upon layer of galvanized steel sheeting. Each of the tests was
done three times, requiring the building of nine separate straw bale walls and
much brute labor to load and unload the test equipment.
These activist groups were certainly networks, but their success
depended on materials and people beyond their own group. Fortunately for
the straw bale advocates, the broader building culture of Tucson itself,
where building officials were already accustomed to adobe building as
an alternative to construction industry practice, set a precedent of open-
mindedness for innovation with highly placed building officials. Leroy
Sayre, chief building official of Pima County, Arizona, has stated that the
testing calculated by Bou-Ali, even though just a student’s master’s thesis
and “although relatively primitive,” still was accepted as “showing that the
material could withstand the wind loads, and to a certain degree the seismic
loads anticipated by the building code” and “became the basis for the develop-
ment of prescriptive standards in the building code for the use of straw bales
as a construction material” (Sayre 1996, 1).6
To recap, the values discourse of the straw bale advocates that facilitated
this fairly normative three-year time sequence included an ecological dis-
course and a trust discourse that drove their ethics in the development of the
technology along with consideration of building officials as a caring com-
munity. The chief building official, who influenced others in the commu-
nity of building officials, employed a normative discourse of health and
safety but was also open to innovation, informed by practical concern for
replacements for steadily weakening timber and an ethical attempt to adapt
an ill-structured, radical building system into normative practice that would
render it approvable as a low-level material. The testing outcome was a
compromise between the evaluation of single bales and whole-wall systems.
In New Mexico, a state that takes pride in the heritage of historic adobe
building traditions, as does Arizona, and also takes pride in its reputation
for the many alternative building innovations that have been initiated there,
the door also appeared open to innovation, as reflected in this statement by
one of the early CID liaisons between the straw bale advocates and the
building regulation community.
If you look at it from one kind of standpoint you have a check and balance
system. If you want to look at it as mildly friendly you would say you have
a [balanced] system. If you don’t like it you would say we have anarchy
and chaos because no one knows who’s in charge. The superintendent and
the director hire and fire and have exclusive control. . . . The commission
It’s easy if the personalities don’t change. But it can be extremely adversar-
ial. The commission will almost always, at some point, align their decisions
and thinking patterns commensurate with [industry]. That, many times, is
opposite or not in alignment with the position of the executives. Where it
really becomes apparent is when the commission feels that the executive is
attempting to get the commission to adopt social policy . . . [such as] model
energy code, radon code . . . because these are viewed as social, not life saving.
Now that’s not to say that everyone wouldn’t agree that you would want to
lower the national dependence on foreign oil by having a good energy
program or lower the out-gassing to create a better environment. . . . What the
commission generally says is that it is for someone else to do, our primary
function is life saving.
So here we see one of the first potential areas of conflict between building
officials and straw bale activists. Changes in the Uniform Building Code
during this period were already mandating energy-use awareness, while CID
personnel felt that that was not what building code enforcement was about.
However, updating the local code to include the model energy code (and
also the Americans with Disabilities Act) during this period was far from
the total of their concerns. They were in fiscal and organizational crisis.
All the fees for permits and contractors’ licenses that the CID collects
must be turned over to the state. These go into the state general fund, and
the CID is then given a budget by the legislature. In 1991, when the straw
bale building code was first proposed, the CID and its building inspectors
had a poor reputation with the building community. Building inspectors
were regarded as poorly informed, arrogant, and prejudiced against non-
locals. They were also grossly underpaid. Their vehicles were falling apart,
and their operating budget was inadequate. During the period from 1991 to
1995, members of the Straw Bale Task Force, including SBCA members,
building officials, and representatives of the Homebuilder’s Association,
felt frustrated as they tried to move forward in negotiating a straw bale
building standard. The SBCA brought materials to meetings and thought
it was providing the information needed to create a code, only to be told
it needed more each time.7 The groups kept talking past one another,
becoming more and more alienated from one another as time went on.
A sense of this frustration can be seen in the following quotes from the CID
liaison to the straw bale committee at that time.
The intent was to have open discussions and get direction. They didn’t know
how to handle it to make it work. The alternative methods of materials were
the approach that I thought would be easiest and most expeditious. All they
[Straw Bale Association] really managed to do was develop these experimen-
tal permits but hadn’t really done anything else. They had all these buildings
done but had not gathered any information to really substantiate any codes
for the mainstream process. So many of them are really how each building
was built. . . . There is no performance standard to apply stucco to straw. Nor
had any of the stucco manufacturers been asked to provide data, which would
give the building officials anything to hang their hat on. . . . The way we were
doing it, we had a wall that feels pretty good, but there was no way to deter-
mine if this stucco is really performing in the way it is supposed to. That’s
why we were trying to keep some references, to note performance. . . . The
way the straw bale people wanted to do it was to apply the stucco and say it’s
okay. In order to approve that, the code official couldn’t do it, unless the pro-
prietary stucco manufacturer had to say, yes, this is an acceptable method for
applying stucco to straw. A lot of these concerns, that’s okay, but on the other
hand, in my position, someone had to be the eyes and ears for the state, to at
least make the state responsible. Stucco is one issue, there are others.
When Governor Johnson came into office and changed all the cabinet
officials . . . it was clear that no one wanted to take the directorship of the
While Lockwood may not have known construction well, she did know
the state legislature and how to work with it. She bartered with the power-
ful Homebuilders Association lobby, promising better service in exchange
for supporting the needs of the CID. As one informant put it, “She told them
what to say, when they should say it and to whom.” She got a decent
budget for the CID, bought them new vehicles, and provided inspectors
with training in both the technical aspects of their job and in human rela-
tions. She elevated selected positions, requiring architects or engineers to
fill them. To their credit, the new commission had tried to accomplish some
of these things only to run into bureaucratic hurdles such as the prohibition
of changing job designations. The new CID director knew how to do the
necessary paperwork and the politics to accomplish such goals. She also
aided the various task forces, including the Straw Bale Task Force, by
requiring them to set specific goals and procedures so that the SBCA and
the CID officials could communicate across their different languages and
find closure in agreement over goals and means. Her tenure began in 1995;
in 1997, the straw bale building code was passed, taking the two years orig-
inally indicated that it should take.
During this period, the SBCA raised funds for testing by contacting
home owners, contractors, architects, and anyone interested in straw bale
building. It raised several thousand dollars to sponsor a small-scale fire test
and transverse load test for straw bale building. The SBCA did a formal pre-
sentation including not only the test results in graph format but also a color
video of the testing process. The segment in which the stucco wall, against
which an industrial grade furnace torch has been applied for an hour, is
taken apart to reveal only some scorching is dramatic. Slides of historic
straw bale homes and a church, built nearly one hundred years ago, were used
as additional evidence. The straw bale building technique was presented as
a low-cost technique suitable for low-income housing, which it can be, with
a lot of owner-builder participation, even though a good portion of the New
Mexico clientele is in the high-end market. It also helped that the leader and
spokesperson for the SBCA was a retired British businessman. Tony Perry’s
authoritative but friendly interaction style was familiar to the CID and the
Building Commission construction professionals and worked for SBCA’s
goals even if some of the more egalitarian-minded members of the SBCA
found him patriarchal. The straw bale building standard passed in New
Mexico, which has a state-level building code that cities and counties are
free to make more stringent, is post and beam. All structures must also have
the stamp of an engineer or an architect. Hence, it is a very conservative
code from the perspective of those who want to use less wood and to
empower individuals to build their own homes. It was, after all, sought by
a team of professionals, not grassroots builders. The initial CID liaison speaks
of the New Mexico straw bale advocates’ values as more self-interested
than the way they represented themselves while still acknowledging the
perseverance of Perry.
Tony was real instrumental in the whole process as well as a number of archi-
tects. They had commissions that were dependent upon this getting approved.
The irony I saw in all of this was that Tony and the group of proponents that
argued this to me awakened to a potential for low cost housing. They really
pushed that. Most of these houses built with straw bale were expensive.
These are not mainstream houses. There were a few built on relatively low
budgets, the majority is [sic] not. In which case why go to so much trouble,
especially in a state like New Mexico, which is where, historically, adobe has
been a recognized building material for centuries long before the building
code. In reality the actual cost of construction [for an] adobe house as com-
pared to a straw bale house, the adobe is probably less expensive. In both
cases, the problem with straw is if you have left an exposed wall, the cost of
the stucco is greatly increased by the irregularity of the wall. In the interior
of the wall you can’t just hang drywall up. Hard plaster is much more expen-
sive than gypsum drywall. You are doing this in order to supply a superior
insulated wall. But look at where all the majority of heat loss in buildings
occur[s]—it’s thru [sic] the roof/ceiling assembly, number one, number two,
the glazing, and finally the walls. So to go to all that trouble to super insulate
a wall, there are enough gaps in the whole process that it is difficult to under-
stand what the real motivation was. I tried to relate it this way to the com-
mission, and did in such a way that I think is understandable.
Obviously, the liaison, a former builder, sees the straw bale technique as
inefficient and does not connect the choice to use it to any ecological
values for using waste materials and instead challenges the ability of the
material to reduce energy use. However, Perry was regarded as a worthy
adversary by those in the CID who had misgivings about straw bale building
because he spoke the language of business and understood the need for
standardization as an ethical issue for the building officials. In the begin-
ning when standardizing the bales themselves was suggested, just as it had
been in Tucson, Perry was quite outspoken about why this would not work.
His description of the dialogue and the outcome introduces the issues of
performance and prescriptive building standards.
We went with the prescriptive code for straw bale because we felt we could
justify with historical evidence a certain set of limitations for straw bale
structures without having a huge amount of testing data to back that up, but
rather a small amount. We didn’t have nearly enough, and we still don’t have
enough data to be able to develop a performance code for straw bale con-
struction. That’s especially true when you deal with anything and there’s a lot
of variability.
He then compares the strengths and weaknesses of the prescriptive and the
performance code approaches from the perspective of the grassroots straw
bale builders in Arizona:
or engineers, you have to show you’ve met the prescription. The downside of
that is if you want to do anything else, it’s difficult because everyone gets
used to the prescription. It’s so much easier to do it that way. It’s really a pain
when someone wants to change something. So there’s resistance—plus you
need to engage experts and you need to have test results. So the prescriptive
approach tends to calcify the whole system. So the performance approach is
nice because it creates all this flexibility and the potential to solve the problem
in any way you can prove as satisfactory with intent. But it involves you having
to prove it meets those criteria. That often involves testing and engineers.
The straw bale advocates in New Mexico had a different orientation. The
most vocal activists in this group were professional builders and architects.
They were interested in building innovative straw bale buildings that were
also showpieces: high-end homes that would highlight the potentials of the
materials. They had the clientele to support such buildings—homes that
were simultaneously luxurious, innovative, and seen as sustainable. At the
same time, they also made the argument that straw bale homes could be
built for low-income groups. Indeed, a number of straw bale architects, not
only in New Mexico, have pointed out the necessity to illustrate that a new
technique is desirable for high-end homes to convince agencies and indi-
viduals that straw bale is not a second-class technique when they propose it
for building low-income housing. The New Mexico advocate-professionals
thought that getting the CID to pass a code for load-bearing straw bale
buildings would be too difficult. They sought a post-and-beam code that
was based on performance. Participants noted that professionals often
prefer a performance code because it leaves more decisions up to them,
and they in turn take the responsibility that the building will perform up to
safe standards.
The following quote from Perry illustrates how New Mexico code offi-
cials’ drive to test single straw bales to standardize them and move them
into a more normal, low-level position in the technical hierarchy—for
ethical consideration as building materials—ultimately resulted in the CID
personnel themselves coming up with a quite creative performance code for
bales, although the code itself is a mixture of both prescriptive and perfor-
mance demands:
When they’re writing the code, there’re two ways of doing it. There are per-
formance standards. And there are “this is how you do it” standards. . . . And
the argument that went on was that we wanted the standards written in such
a way that we got the right performance out of it all. But we didn’t want to
necessarily tell people how to do it—because that stifles innovation. And the
code actually came out as a compromise between the two. For example, one
of the things that was an early issue was, how do you test the compression of
bales. And clearly if a bale is baled too loosely, it’s not much use. If it’s baled
too tightly, you’ve driven all the air out of it and it’s not so good from an insu-
lation point of view. Baling machines, of which there are eight different vari-
eties, have settings, which are totally arbitrary, going from sort of zero to six
hundred. And we went and took a field of wheat and tried all sorts of differ-
ent settings. We came to the conclusion that it didn’t matter much as long as
you weren’t at either extreme, as long as you were somewhere in the middle.
And the CID started off saying, we need to get the farmers to certify every
bale, a tag put on it. Can you see farmers doing that? . . I said to them, “That
is impossible!” There are eight different machines. All right? There are six
hundred settings on each machine. There are wheat, rye, oats, barley, and rice
[straw bales]. And there are probably three or four hundred different climatic
conditions on which it might be cut and baled. No way. So we ended up with
a very practical thing. And the CID came up with it. They said, all right, pick
up a two-string bale, by one string, and if you can walk twenty-five feet with-
out it falling apart, it’s good enough. And I thought, Wow, that’s sensible.
Isn’t that nice. Now that’s a performance standard, right? . . . If they say it’s
got to be a compression setting of 125, plus or minus 5 percent, that’s not a
performance standard. And if you read the code, you will see where it is a
combination of both.
The New Mexico performance code reads much as Perry describes it:
shall be determined after reducing the actual bale weight by the weight of
the moisture content, as determined in section 7204.1.5. The calculated dry
density shall be determined by dividing the calculated dry weight of the bale
by the volume of the bale.
The goals of the Arizona and New Mexico straw bale advocates not with-
standing, retired chief building official Leroy Sayre suggests that purely
performance codes may be impossible even as he states his preferences
for them:
I believe that if it can be shown that a material can meet the structural and
fire safety provisions of the code, what difference does it make what the
material is? It can be spaghetti for all I care. As long as they can show it will
meet the fire safety and structural materials of the code. But they have to
show that by tests. . . . I don’t know how they’re ever going to write a true
performance code without proscriptive requirements in it. . . . They’ve been
working on it for over fifty years and they haven’t done it yet.
In fact, this morning I was thinking the uniform building code was first
published in 1922 so that’s seventy-eight years.
Further examples show that both Arizona and New Mexico created mixed
codes even though to a degree, the Arizona standard leans toward prescrip-
tive language and New Mexico toward performance, though not so thor-
oughly as the rhetoric of each states’ advocates suggests. The New Mexico
“performance” code prescribes exact limits on the types of straw that
may be used. The Arizona “prescriptive” code mentions the same types
of straw but explicitly sets no limits with the phrase “including but not
limited to,” leaving a wide space for additional straw material, hardly a
prescriptive stance.
The point is not that these codes fail in their intent to be performance or
prescription in format but that, just as Sayre states, such purity is almost
impossible to achieve, and hence both codes are actually a mix of perfor-
mance and prescriptive standards, not surprising given their culturally situ-
ated and negotiated nature.
Mediators were crucial to the technical and ethical discussions at the detail
level, perceived so differently by straw bale advocates versus conventional
process was limited by conventions from the building industry that had
“disappeared into infrastructure, habit, and the taken for granted” (p. 319)
before the work of mediators. The actions, interactions, and resulting codes,
along with the introduction of new discourses of ecology and sustainabil-
ity, different in the two states discussed, have themselves contributed to the
construction of policy in their respective settings. Having once worked
through the immense difficulties of negotiating different discourses that
embody different ethics of safe building in each state, the groups involved
ultimately negotiated usable building codes for building with straw bales.
Activists in both states admit this code is not perfect, as many attest as they
go through updating it to include more recent refinements in technique. In
the process of negotiating, testing, and building the code, a discourse and
process structure were created that now serve as a model for future innova-
tions using other organic, nonstandardizable, materials. This research has
shown the basting and tailoring leading up to what Bowker and Star
described as the ultimate seamless interweaving of existing formal, techno-
logical categories and specifications. This process has become an infra-
structure itself, becoming the model for rammed earth and other innovations,
while the CID liaison officer who facilitated the negotiations in New
Mexico is regarded as an expert to be consulted by other states seeking to
bring indigenous building techniques under code.
Is there, then, something useful from what has been learned in these
settings that speaks to engineering design in terms of the importance of
empirical information for developing standards for ethical considera-
tions? I would propose the following: (1) Attention to ethics in practice
reveals that what may be regarded as ethical practice may be based as
much in everyday convention as in values. (2) Groups that embrace dif-
ferent public charges and engage in different practices may find more
conflict in their discourse and practices than in their actual values. They
may find common ground despite differing conventions and values with
the help of mediators. (3) Organizational structure and culture are tied to
classification and standardization and so can make a great difference in
communication and perceptions about values and ethics. (4) Preconceived
notions of just how ethical considerations are to be undertaken, especially
conventions following rigid norms, can be problematic when faced with
materials that do not fit preconceived notions or categories. However,
such categories for classifying and judging materials and processes for
ethical considerations should not be abandoned but rather used as a point
of departure to develop innovative ways to judge new technologies. (5) A
sense of flexibility, even a sense of play, can be very useful in dealing
Notes
1. Technically, the rules developed for building with straw bales are designated a “build-
ing standard”; however, the terms building standard and building code are used interchange-
ably throughout this article to minimize repetitive language.
2. The necessity of looking closely at ethics in situational practice is commanding
increasing attention in the engineering ethics literature (Hackett 2002; Brugge and Cole 2003;
Keulartz et al. 2004; among others). Empirical information illustrates the kinds of insights
available when we pay attention to ethics in practice, which could contribute to more empiri-
cally informed ethics of design in engineering as well as in standard setting more generally.
This article joins other scholars (Gorman, Mehalik, and Werhane 2000; Vesilind and Gunn
1998) in raising ecological concerns as ethical ones. This is a sociological study in the science
and technology studies tradition of meanings members attach to values, ethics, and technol-
ogy and how they actually enact them. Organizational norms and culture have convincingly
been shown to be crucial determinants of technological decisions and actions in a number of
studies (Vaughan 1997; Eden 2004; Meyers 2004; to name a few); here, as conveyed in dis-
course, they contribute to the ways in which materials are qualified as safe, the way building
systems are tested, and the way in which standards are expressed.
3. Information is from the Straw Bale Registry (http://sbregistry.greenbuilder.com/search.
straw). About half of the structures represented by these numbers are located in China, and
about one-third in the United States. The majority of those in the United States are located in
the southwest states that spawned the technique: Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, and California,
with the addition of Colorado due to newer techniques for snow-producing climates. The large
numbers in China result from a housing project sponsored by a U.S. religious institution.
4. Not only was the vernacular architecture Shelter published during this period, so was
Rudofsky’s (1964) Architecture without Architects, which documented the beauty of indigenous
people’s building with natural materials, and Handmade Houses by Boericke and Shapiro (1973).
5. Straw bale advocate/researchers report that having discovered that stacked bale homes
were both durable and comfortable in the weather extremes of Nebraska winters and summers,
people plastered over the straw walls and made them permanent (Myhrman and Knox 1993;
Steen, Steen, and Bainbridge 1994).
6. Even with the testing barrier solved, three years of innumerable meetings and multiple
rewrites went by before the written standard was acceptable to the code review committee
(delayed also because construction work had increased in the region, spreading building offi-
cials’ time and obligation more thinly). It was approved and added to the 1994 Pima
County/City of Tucson Uniform Building Code as appendix chapter 72. On January 2, 1996,
the Pima County Board of Supervisors and the City of Tucson mayor/council adopted the 1994
edition of the Uniform Building Code, with appendix chapter 72, allowing the use of straw
bales as load-bearing walls for buildings not more than one story in height.
7. The Homebuilders Association representative and perhaps some code officials felt that
the Straw Bale Construction Association was misrepresenting its case since they were reading
other materials in straw bale publications and on straw bale Web sites advocating for a load-
bearing code such as that being pursued in Arizona, while the New Mexico straw bale organi-
zation was asking only for a post-and-beam code.
8. These are designated goal setting and prescriptive standards in the article by Coeckelbergh
(2006 [this issue]). Rosen and Heineman (1990) used methods system and results system,
which parallel the designations prescription and performance employed by participants here.
9. Former New Mexico Construction Industries Division/straw bale liaison Ramirez has
been consulted on developing building standards for rammed earth in New Mexico and by
building officials in Hawaii and elsewhere, wanting to bring indigenous building techniques into
the codes so they can be employed and judged by ethical standards, familiar to building officials.
10. Ethnographic, case study research does not usually seek to generalize beyond what can
be said about the particular setting researched, and it was not the intent of this research to do
more than illustrate what has happened when grassroots activists, employing their interpre-
tation of a “green” ethic, sought to create a building code for an innovative, but not easily stan-
dardized, process while working with building officials, whose sense of ethical safety precautions
were influenced by the conventions of the building industry. Hence, what is summarized here
is not intended to be universal since each case will have situational components as illustrated
in the Arizona and New Mexico scenarios. Awareness of such issues of messy, contingent
practice is worthy of general note.
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Kathryn Henderson is trained in sociology and art criticism, and her research has focused on
the changing visual culture of design engineering. Her current work examines how grassroots
technical knowledge outside the mainstream, such as straw bale building, is conveyed and
legitimated.