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| In addition to natural hazard vulnerability, the lack of access to basic infrastructure and financial services imposes restricted production and consumption conditions for this population, as well as limits technological innovations that for some privileged experts, would be promising for reducing our environmental degradation [2]. Hence, when thinking along the United Nation’s promise of “leaving no one behind” for a sustainable future, one must think – What is really possible in marginalized, peripheral, poor contexts?
In my diverse experiences in social projects in Brazil, I came to face situations where from the lack of options, these populations have been actively resisting their existence through informal and creative ways of production, consumption and education. Ways that have been excluded from the respect of government officials and policymakers, but that we can learn from to ressignify our modus operandis that have overpassed the bearable impact on the planet.
I bring to the discussion the practice of mutirão, a word with indigenous roots from Tupi-Guarani mutyrõ (within many other variations), freely translated to English as “common work”. The practice, with debated origin [3], has been present in diverse cultural contexts and geographical regions, suggesting a common intrinsic human trace of solidarity [3], but that aggregates different layers of political and social challenges. Deteriorated by the growing individualization of work configuration, some practices of mutual help survive their remote past’s heritage [3], yet incorporating new complexities of contemporary urban configuration.
In Brazilian cities, despite the legal effort to make cities accessible [4], these challenges include housing deficit, lack of basic services such as sanitation and electricity, and restricted land access [5]. In the overall neglect of this urban ill by some government officials, it creates a condition that obliges people to find informal ways of occupying the city – usually in configurations such as favelas, and ocupações. In these scenarios of poor infrastructure assistance, climate vulnerability is enhanced, being common phenomena of landslides, extreme rainfall and floods that cause significant dwelling damage and human loss. Yet invisibilized by officials, the segregated people find political and social strength by unification of their voices, knowledge and workforce abilities in a territory that is not assisted by formal governance. They collectively construct housing, infrastructure, and collective spaces in labor that are generally non-remunerated, non-hierarchical, and do not aim for a financial profit. Therefore, the mutirão incorporates a political view of anti-hegemonic activity that is contrary to capitalist work relations [6].
To bring this into practical terms, I share a practice of an informal occupation located in Santa Maria, a city in south of Brazil, that is in a current legislative process for the State to formally allow 53 families to live where they have been for the past seven years – “Vila Resistência” – in direct translation – “Villa of Resistance”. The name coherently suggests their will of power, as 15 of the pioneer families came from a situation of eviction from a past land they occupied, and in the current site, they have already been through at least three direct threats of removal [7]. The disputatious situation introduces other various conflicts these organizations encounter, and their need to urgently resist to be able to live.
In addition to natural hazard vulnerability, the lack of access to basic infrastructure and financial services imposes restricted production and consumption conditions for this population, as well as limits technological innovations that for some privileged experts, would be promising for reducing our environmental degradation [2]. Hence, when thinking along the United Nation’s promise of “leaving no one behind” for a sustainable future, one must think – What is really possible in marginalized, peripheral, poor contexts?In my diverse experiences in social projects in Brazil, I came to face situations where from the lack of options, these populations have been actively resisting their existence through informal and creative ways of production, consumption and education. Ways that have been excluded from the respect of government officials and policymakers, but that we can learn from to ressignify our modus operandis that have overpassed the bearable impact on the planet.
I bring to the discussion the practice of mutirão, a word with indigenous roots from Tupi-Guarani mutyrõ (within many other variations), freely translated to English as “common work”. The practice, with debated origin [3], has been present in diverse cultural contexts and geographical regions, suggesting a common intrinsic human trace of solidarity [3], but that aggregates different layers of political and social challenges. Deteriorated by the growing individualization of work configuration, some practices of mutual help survive their remote past’s heritage [3], yet incorporating new complexities of contemporary urban configuration.
In Brazilian cities, despite the legal effort to make cities accessible [4], these challenges include housing deficit, lack of basic services such as sanitation and electricity, and restricted land access [5]. In the overall neglect of this urban ill by some government officials, it creates a condition that obliges people to find informal ways of occupying the city – usually in configurations such as favelas, and ocupações. In these scenarios of poor infrastructure assistance, climate vulnerability is enhanced, being common phenomena of landslides, extreme rainfall and floods that cause significant dwelling damage and human loss. Yet invisibilized by officials, the segregated people find political and social strength by unification of their voices, knowledge and workforce abilities in a territory that is not assisted by formal governance. They collectively construct housing, infrastructure, and collective spaces in labor that are generally non-remunerated, non-hierarchical, and do not aim for a financial profit. Therefore, the mutirão incorporates a political view of anti-hegemonic activity that is contrary to capitalist work relations [6].
To bring this into practical terms, I share a practice of an informal occupation located in Santa Maria, a city in south of Brazil, that is in a current legislative process for the State to formally allow 53 families to live where they have been for the past seven years – “Vila Resistência” – in direct translation – “Villa of Resistance”. The name coherently suggests their will of power, as 15 of the pioneer families came from a situation of eviction from a past land they occupied, and in the current site, they have already been through at least three direct threats of removal [7]. The disputatious situation introduces other various conflicts these organizations encounter, and their need to urgently resist to be able to live.
In addition to natural hazard vulnerability, the lack of access to basic infrastructure and financial services imposes restricted production and consumption conditions for this population, as well as limits technological innovations that for some privileged experts, would be promising for reducing our environmental degradation [2]. Hence, when thinking along the United Nation’s promise of “leaving no one behind” for a sustainable future, one must think – What is really possible in marginalized, peripheral, poor contexts?
In my diverse experiences in social projects in Brazil, I came to face situations where from the lack of options, these populations have been actively resisting their existence through informal and creative ways of production, consumption and education. Ways that have been excluded from the respect of government officials and policymakers, but that we can learn from to ressignify our modus operandis that have overpassed the bearable impact on the planet.
I bring to the discussion the practice of mutirão, a word with indigenous roots from Tupi-Guarani mutyrõ (within many other variations), freely translated to English as “common work”. The practice, with debated origin [3], has been present in diverse cultural contexts and geographical regions, suggesting a common intrinsic human trace of solidarity [3], but that aggregates different layers of political and social challenges. Deteriorated by the growing individualization of work configuration, some practices of mutual help survive their remote past’s heritage [3], yet incorporating new complexities of contemporary urban configuration.
In Brazilian cities, despite the legal effort to make cities accessible [4], these challenges include housing deficit, lack of basic services such as sanitation and electricity, and restricted land access [5]. In the overall neglect of this urban ill by some government officials, it creates a condition that obliges people to find informal ways of occupying the city – usually in configurations such as favelas, and ocupações. In these scenarios of poor infrastructure assistance, climate vulnerability is enhanced, being common phenomena of landslides, extreme rainfall and floods that cause significant dwelling damage and human loss. Yet invisibilized by officials, the segregated people find political and social strength by unification of their voices, knowledge and workforce abilities in a territory that is not assisted by formal governance. They collectively construct housing, infrastructure, and collective spaces in labor that are generally non-remunerated, non-hierarchical, and do not aim for a financial profit. Therefore, the mutirão incorporates a political view of anti-hegemonic activity that is contrary to capitalist work relations [6].
To bring this into practical terms, I share a practice of an informal occupation located in Santa Maria, a city in south of Brazil, that is in a current legislative process for the State to formally allow 53 families to live where they have been for the past seven years – “Vila Resistência” – in direct translation – “Villa of Resistance”. The name coherently suggests their will of power, as 15 of the pioneer families came from a situation of eviction from a past land they occupied, and in the current site, they have already been through at least three direct threats of removal [7]. The disputatious situation introduces other various conflicts these organizations encounter, and their need to urgently resist to be able to live.
Built environments have long been dictated by elite planners and architects and bureaucracies that serve privileged societies. Faced with deeply rooted social inequities, environmental degradation, and a rapidly evolving technology, educators, urban planners and designers, and architects are obliged to rethink how cities are built and maintained and how knowledge about their futures is generated, produced, and reproduced. This collection weaves together a diverse array of ideas—from alternative spatial paradigms, and Islamic thought to decolonised architectural pedagogy, AI-enabled public engagement, nature-based solutions, and the mobilization of participatory art-based methods for public spaces. Collectively, they offer threads for multiple learning opportunities and speak for an urgent pedagogical call to action: to unlearn established, habitually exclusionary, practices and to reimagine future built environments as inclusive and co-created realms of possibility.
Six Threads for Rethinking Learning in Architecture and Urbanism
Across their history and evolution, cities have been viewed as stagnant urban canvases for top‐down interventions. Contemporary debates in critical urbanism and sustainable development convey that our built environments are not passive milieus but dynamic, co‐created spaces. The contributions in this reader elucidate the urgency of unlearning outdated inherited practices and embracing new modes of engagement that give prominence to local wisdom, inclusivity, and innovation.
One critical thread offered by Ashraf Salama is the decolonisation of architectural pedagogy which builds on Connell’s Southern Theory (Connell 2007) and the dynamics of epistemics. For decades, architectural curricula have been dominated by Eurocentric narratives that marginalise non-Western and Indigenous epistemologies. This contribution contends passionately for a transformative educational framework that integrates diverse cultural perspectives, emphasises ecological responsibility, and repositions the architect as a facilitator rather than an authoritarian knowledgeable practitioner. The proposed model, synthesised from global case studies and aligned with the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), advocates for interdisciplinary learning, community engagement, and pluri-epistemologies. This approach seeks to dismantle entrenched hierarchies within the academy and presents a hope to prepare future architects to address complex social and environmental challenges through collaborative, context-sensitive practices.
A provocative thread exploring creative-artistic methodologies, that aims at empowering marginalised voices, specifically, girls, is offered by Jana Schade. Drawing inspiration from Virginia Woolf’s crucial call for creative freedom in A Room of One’s Own, this contribution maintains that urban spaces must be cultivated as canvases for self-expression for underrepresented groups. Engaging with feminist research and collaborative approaches, the work reveals how creative practices can enable girls to articulate their visions and challenge the spatial exclusion that has historically limited their agency. Through multi-case studies, expert interviews, and action research, this contribution exemplifies that art-based methods can be a powerful catalyst for social and cultural transformation.
Digital innovation forms another vigorous thread of the discourse in this reader. In a time where artificial intelligence (AI) progressively shapes creative and cultural industries, Mustapha El Moussaoui and Kris Krois explore how AI can be harnessed as a tool for speculative urban design interventions. Using Generative Adversarial Networks (GANs) and related digital tools, a case study from Don Bosco in Bolzano, Italy, illustrates that AI-generated imagery can act as a catalyst for participatory design. These images serve as provocations—starting points that spark collective imagination and critical dialogue among community members. Nevertheless, while digital tools offer stimulating possibilities, this contribution also raises important questions about the risks of reinforcing pre-existing biases if technology is not integrated ethically. Therefore, the challenge is to ensure that AI functions not as a prescriptive force but as an enabler of inclusive, bottom-up decision-making.
Complementing the digital perspective, Charalampos Spanos, Georgios Artopoulos, Constantinos Kritiotis, and Afroditi Magou present a roadmap for inclusive Nature-Based Solutions (NBS). In the face of escalating environmental degradation, the integration of nature-inspired approaches into urbanism is increasingly critical. This contribution outlines a participatory, co-diagnostic process employed along the Pedieos River in Cyprus. This approach utilises Citizen Science and engages a diverse spectrum of stakeholders—municipal authorities, NGOs, and local communities—through methods such as serious geo-games, and phygital interactions with nature. The process represents how unlearning exclusionary practices can open new avenues for sustainable and resilient urban interventions. It stresses the possibility for NBS to enhance ecological outcomes while empowering communities by validating local, lived knowledge and facilitating collaborative decision-making.
Finally, a captivating thread interrogates the traditional wisdom of creating the urban realm. In modern capitalist cities, public spaces are often depicted as neutral zones of democratic interaction and engagement. However, drawing on the critical insights of geographers, philosophers, and social scientists, Abeer Allahham exposes these spaces as territories of power and hegemony, where the state exercises its dual role as sovereign and landowner to regulate access and maintain social order. Contrasting this with the fluid, communal spatial practices found in traditional Islamic cities—emanated from cultural and religious traditions—this contribution offers an alternative vision. In these traditional contexts, the absence of a rigid public–private dichotomy in the urban realm enabled communities to manage and share space more equitably. Such insights resonate with wider contemporary calls to decentralise urban control and foster participatory forms of use, appropriation, and spatial management.
Collective Message
This reader challenges entrenched canons through criticising elitist models of both education and practice, deconstructing Eurocentric educational frameworks, and questioning conventional urban practices. It calls for concerted efforts that empower communities, whether through re-envisioned public spaces inspired by traditional practices, decolonised curricula, AI-enhanced participatory design, inclusive nature-based solutions, or creative artistic interventions. The underlying imperative is clear: we must unlearn obsolete inherited practices and embrace collaborative, context-sensitive approaches that value the lived experiences and diverse knowledge types.
Drawing on the emancipatory philosophies of eminent pedagogues and selected radical urban theories, these contributions argue that design pedagogy is not a neutral process but a deeply political act of liberation. They echo the narrative that every street, park, and building is a site of possibility—a setting for collective creativity and critical dialogue.
Across the five contributions, a clear commonality emerges: a call for a radical rethinking of built environment futures through participatory, inclusive, and decolonised pedagogies. Each work challenges conventional, top‐down approaches—whether in public space management, or architectural pedagogy—contending that built environments should be co‐created by communities rather than imposed by technocratic creams. There is a shared emphasis on unlearning outdated practices and integrating diverse forms of knowledge, from Indigenous and non-Western traditions to cutting-edge digital innovations. Likewise, the contributions collectively stress that built environments must be reimagined as dynamic realms for collective empowerment, social justice, and ecological resilience. This convergence of ideas accentuates a transformative vision where architectural and urban pedagogy are centred on learning processes that genuinely reflect the lived experiences and aspirations of inhabitants.
Reference:
Conell, R. 2007. Southern Theory: Social Science and the Global Dynamics of Knowledge. Polity Press.
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