A new breed of luxury has landed on the Red Sea, mirrored pods floating above coral reefs, reflecting sky and sea like something not entirely of this Earth. Energy powered by solar powers, drinking water pulled from the sea using desalination.

Welcome to Shebara, Saudi Arabia’s newest ultra-luxury resort, part of the Kingdom’s massive Red Sea tourism push. Opened in late 2024 on Sheybarah Island, the 73-villa resort is already being positioned as one of the most exclusive and visually striking hotels in the world. Celebrities, as we noted in the past, have been spotted there.

But is Shebara really sustainable? And is it worth the price, ethically, environmentally, or even financially?

A futuristic resort in a fragile ecosystem

Shebara sits in a pristine archipelago of 90+ islands along Saudi Arabia’s Red Sea coast,  an area rich in coral reefs, seagrass, and mangroves. Its design is undeniably dramatic: stainless-steel, orb-like villas that mirror their surroundings, sometimes appearing to disappear into the horizon. Saudi Arabia says tourism here will be capped at one million visitors per year to protect the ecosystem.

That’s the promise, but the reality is harder to measure.

Is Shebara hotel actually sustainable?

Saudi Arabia markets the Red Sea Project as regenerative tourism, powered by renewable energy and built with minimal ecological impact. But there is no information about third parties who certify these kinds of projects. Common in the Middle East.

And scale matters. Building luxury resorts on previously untouched islands, whether it’s in the Seychelles, or in the Red Sea. This raises familiar questions:

What happens to coral reefs under increased tourism pressure? How “low impact” is construction when villas weighing over 100 tons are shipped and installed offshore? Can high-end travel ever truly be sustainable?

Even online, skepticism is growing. “Seems so consumptive and indulgent… makes me sick,” one Reddit user wrote about the Red Sea resorts.

Another described the destination as “completely deserted,” raising questions about demand versus hype about the place.

At the same time, guest reviews paint a different picture — “amazing staff,” “exceptional experience,” and “beautiful design” as found on Booking.com.

So which is true? Likely both. Celebrity buzz — and quiet luxury can co-exist. So if you have money to indulge in about $2000 a night listed on its booking site, go to Shebara and share your experience with us. Luxury hotels in Thailand cost about $1000 a night, like this one we stayed in – Keemala. While it’s not a sustainable option for weeks on end, a few nights can buy you a good reset with high-quality pillows. If you can find family rooms in high-end resorts, it might be cheaper than renting 2 or 3 rooms to fit the kids.

While Shebara isn’t yet flooded with celebrity sightings like Dubai or the Maldives (which has some racist policies in place), it’s clearly being built for that market — an ultra-private selection of villas, overwater pools, and controlled access to a rare island.

Saudi Arabia’s Vision 2030 strategy is betting heavily on attracting global elites, influencers, and high-net-worth travelers to reshape its image through tourism. The celebrity pipeline will follow if they get paid well enough.

Are prices to Saudi Arabia and Dubai dropping because of Middle East conflict?

There’s a persistent rumor that regional instability is pushing luxury travel prices down. But the reality is more nuanced. There’s no strong evidence that Shebara itself is discounting heavily. Some reports suggest nightly rates in the luxury tier (well over $2,000+ per night).

However, broader travel demand in the Middle East can fluctuate with geopolitical tensions. When travelers hesitate, resorts sometimes adjust pricing quietly. So yes — in some cases prices soften.

But Shebara is positioned at the very top of the market, where exclusivity often matters more than occupancy. For Green Prophet readers, the question isn’t whether Shebara is beautiful. It’s whether it represents the future we actually want.

The post Shebara hotel Saudi Arabia – is it eco-luxury dream or desert illusion? appeared first on Green Prophet.

When I had my first baby, we installed a baby gate and covered the gaping holes of the open-concept space that might lead to a crawling or exploring baby plummeting to her death. We have all the fixtures of a modern home, so her being exposed to sewage was obviously not my concern. But it is one for parents in some African villages.

A new experiment in Tanzania is showing that architecture can do more than provide shelter, it can protect health, especially for children.

In a long-term study spanning 10 years, children living in specially designed “Star Homes” were significantly less likely to suffer from malaria, diarrhoea, and respiratory infections compared to those in conventional houses. The difference wasn’t medicine or technology, it was design. As more and more people increase their wealth in Africa, they tend to move on from a natural material home made with thatched roof, to a solid concrete block which relies on air conditioners to keep it cool.

A recent three-year trial by Professor Steve Lindsay from Durham in Tanzania found that children living in specially designed two-story “Star Homes” had dramatically lower rates of malaria, diarrhoea, and acute respiratory infections compared with children in traditional mud-and-thatch houses. The children in the Star Homes also grew taller as a result of their better health. He published the results in Nature Medicine.

Malaria, diarrhoea and acute respiratory infections are three major causes of mortality in young children in sub-Saharan Africa. In the trial of those kids living in a Star Home, malaria was reduced by 44%, diarrhoea by 30% and respiratory infections by 18%. The researchers are calling on architects, builders, and governments to think differently about rural house design to help protect children from disease.

The Star Home is the outcome of almost 40 years of research by Lindsay. The healthy house design was informed by his research on how mosquitoes enter homes, and multiple clinical trials of house-screening in traditional African houses.

The Star Homes Project was then developed by architect firm Ingvartsen in cooperation with the Hanako Foundation based in Singapore to rethink how a house interacts with its environment. Can cement houses be created so they cool passively, and prevent disease exposure?

Bedrooms are placed on an upper floor, reducing exposure to mosquitoes that carry malaria. Mosquitos tend to stay closer to the ground. Ventilation is improved, helping reduce indoor air pollution and respiratory issues. Even the placement of the latrine—moved outside, limits the spread of diarrhoeal disease that can kill kids in infancy.

It’s a simple idea with powerful results: build homes that prevent illness instead of treating it.

But there’s a catch. At around $8,800 per house, the design remains out of reach for many of the families who would benefit most. Those that were awarded a house were part of a lottery. Still, researchers say the project is not about mass rollout yet, it is about proof of concept.

Its creators note: “The Star Homes have been designed to be easily scalable and optimise resource use to reduce their environmental impact and build cost. Unlike most rural Tanzanian housing, our prototype house is two stories high. This reduces the area of the foundation and roof, which are typically the most expensive and material intensive components of a house.”

“The result is a home that uses 70% less concrete compared with a typical concrete block design and has 40% less embodied energy.”

“Rainwater is collected from the roof and stored in a 2000L tank via a first flush system, providing clean drinking water. A 40W solar panel provides lighting and USB charging. All materials and labour are sourced locally, and components can be reused or recycled.”

What the Star Home demonstrates is something bigger: health can be built into infrastructure. Instead of relying only on healthcare systems, communities can reduce disease at the source—through smarter design.

Reminds us of the clay pot water systems that filter water.

In a world facing rising populations, climate pressure, and strained health systems, this kind of thinking could reshape how we build.

Want to learn how to build a Star Home?
Enter here

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When the region settles after the American war with Iran, and it will, American and European travelers will come back. Not just for spectacle or headline projects, but for places that feel real. Places that haven’t been engineered to impress and which get into your soul.

We predict that visitors to Saudi Arabia will want to see places like Rijal Alma.

About 28 miles west of Abha, in the mountains of Saudi Arabia’s Asir region, Rijal Alma sits along steep slopes that fall toward the Red Sea. The village is known for its tall, narrow houses, some rising six stories—built from stone, mud, and wood. They’ve been standing for generations, holding their shape in heat, wind, and time.

This is vernacular architecture in its pure form. Long before eco, regenerative and sustainability became buzzwords, builders here figured out how to work with the climate. Thick earthen walls absorb heat during the day and release it at night. Small windows limited direct sun and gave privacy which is what Muslim families expect. The stacked design helps air move through the structure. Nothing is decorative for the sake of it. Everything has a purpose.

Saudi Arabia today is pushing forward with massive projects which have either failed or been postponed, like NEOM, Trojena, Shebara—designed to redefine how people live in extreme environments. They’re bold, expensive, and built to draw attention. But they also raise a question. Is oil money only buying the new and fantastic? As the world weans itself on oil, Saudi Arabia and its family owned oil company Saudi Aramco, will return to humble roots like the House of Saud, a ruling family that once lived in a mud palace.

Rijal Alma shows a different approach to building. The materials are local and the scale is human.

Under the House of Saud, there’s been more interest in restoring historic sites like this one. That’s a start. But preservation alone isn’t enough. The real shift would be using these ideas again, not as decoration, but as a base for new construction.

In a hotter world, that kind of thinking matters. Buildings that cool themselves. Materials that don’t rely on long supply chains. Designs that last.

When travel feels safe again, visitors from the US and Europe will likely make their way here. Not just to see something old, but to understand how people built before energy was cheap and space was unlimited. Walk through Rijal Alma and you notice it right away. The temperature drops in the shade. The walls feel solid. The streets are narrow for a reason. Nothing is random.

It’s not nostalgic. It’s practical. And we love that.

The post When peace returns, will we rediscover Saudi Arabia’s mud-brick soul? appeared first on Green Prophet.

The Roman governors named the city Noviomagus. It was an important urban center and a key military and administrative hub on the northern border of the Roman Empire. The residents left thousands of everyday artifacts that archaeologist have been excavating and stashing into boxes for the past 70 years.

Researchers are now bringing these remnants of Roman material culture out of storage, in a project aiming to identify and catalog them for future study and preservation.

The 16,000 boxes ended up in the province of Gelderland nearly 20 years ago. The province recently allocated €8 million to inventory the contents of the boxes and repack them. It’s expected that it will take 6 years to sift through every box.

300 of the boxes have been opened. The objects inside are between 1,800 and 2,000 years old. They are things used in everyday life and that reveal a vivid picture of how people lived and interacted when Roman government held sway in Noviomagus (today’s Nijmegen). Several are considered “masterpieces” and are causing a lot of excitement among researchers and specialists.

Fine Roman tableware – intricately decorated cups and bowls – have survived the centuries. The clay pot with a human face sculpted onto it below served two purposes: it was a drinking vessel whose twisted nose and hard-boiled eyes promised a good time for the drinker.

Among the magical protective objects is a 20-centimeter/8-inch phallus carved from bone.

People have used phallic images since ancient times, to bring prosperity and avert bad luck. See our post on Iran’s phallic stones. This example is unusual in that it’s made of bone. Other Roman phalli were made of stone or metal.

As many other cultures did, the Romans used phallic images in hopes of increasing human and agricultural fertility, but also to deflect the evil eye, a powerful fear in the minds of ancient people. It still exists among some modern communities: see our post on the evil eye in the Middle East.

Mosiacs and wall paintings depicting gods, animals, and men in full erection were displayed in homes. Below you see an eye representing envy and malice being attacked by all sorts of creatures, a dagger, a trident – and the exaggerated penis of a man.

Phalli carved into clay plaques were set over front doors to prevent bad vibes from entering. Wind chimes featuring multiple metal phalli hung over shop doors in the belief that the  charm would protect owner from thieves and financial loss.

A woman might have worn a jeweled phallus in her hair, or a man a phallic pendant around his neck. There were even tiny phallic charms on bracelets meant to fasten on the wrists of newborns, and finger rings with engraved phalli so small that they could only have been meant to be worn by children.

Can we ever enter the minds of people so at home with the arts, international trade, high-level politics and governance – not to mention a military that conquered a large part of the world – yet who lived in superstitious fear of envy and ill-wishing every day? Researchers feel that those 16,000 boxes full of ancient Roman debris contain that possibility and that they will reveal much more about the Roman way of life than we’ve yet seen.

The post Hidden Archives Reveal Amazing Roman Artifacts appeared first on Green Prophet.

Salman Rasouli

Critiquing architectural and development projects, particularly within environmentally sensitive contexts, is an essential component of social dynamism and a prerequisite for healthy public discourse. However, such dialogue can only be constructive when it is built upon accurate information, verified field observations, and unambiguous reference to scientific sources.

The article “The Aga Khan is Greenwashing Their Awards,” written by Ronak Roshan and published on September 3, 2025, on Green Prophet, critiques the “Majara Complex and Community Redevelopment.” While the project appears at first glance to align with the sustainability values of international awards, the article relies on a series of claims to argue that it contradicts the fundamental principles of sustainable development.

Majara is part of the “Presence in Hormuz” initiative by ZAV Architects, developed alongside projects like the “Rong Cultural Center” and the “Typeless.” Designed within the natural and social fabric of Hormuz Island, the project aims to foster cultural tourism and create socio-economic opportunities for the local community. It was subsequently named a recipient of the Aga Khan Award in the 2023–2025 cycle.

While disagreement regarding the balance between development and the environment is expected, when a critique relies on scientific and environmental claims, the accuracy of citations and field observations becomes paramount. Such texts significantly shape the perception of non-specialist audiences regarding architectural and development projects.

Accuracy of Information and Responsible Critique

In the article in question, references to academic research are presented in a way that initially lends the arguments an air of validity. However, a closer examination reveals that the scientific content of these sources has been misinterpreted.

For example, regarding sea turtle nesting sites:

Research by Loghmani-Devin, Savari, and Sadeghi (2013) regarding “Hawksbill Turtle nesting on Hormuz Island” [1] states that while two-thirds of the island’s beaches are suitable for nesting, the northern and western shores are not utilized for this purpose due to the nature of the substrate. The Majara complex is situated precisely along these northern and western shores.

Research by Maria and Nasir (2014), referenced in the article, focuses on “Identifying and Prioritizing Important Nesting Sites of the Green Turtle on the Iranian Beaches of the Oman Sea” [2]. While the study makes passing reference to Persian Gulf islands, its primary focus is the Iranian mainland coast. No specific data or field maps were provided for Hormuz Island, making it an insufficient source for conclusions about the island’s habitats.

Furthermore, inaccuracies exist at the level of basic field observation. The article mistakenly places Majara in the west and southwest of the island. In reality, the complex is located on the northwestern shore, approximately four kilometers from Hormuz City, a fact easily verifiable by public maps.

Development, Sustainable Tourism, and Hormuz Island

In the post-World War II era, rapid industrialization and environmental damage gave rise to environmental movements that increased awareness about resource exploitation. The central dilemma remained: how to reduce poverty and improve social welfare without economic and industrial development.

The concept of sustainable development emerged as a response, aiming to meet present needs without compromising the future. In tourism, this requires balancing economic, social, and environmental impacts.

In Hormuz, the debate is often framed as development versus conservation. Global experience shows that development brings both risks and opportunities. The goal is not to reject development, but to manage it responsibly through planning and conservation strategies.

Majara Project’s Strategy for Sustainable Development

The Majara project outlines several approaches to maintaining a sustainable relationship with the island:

Architectural and Environmental Strategies

• Materials: Use of Nader Khalili’s Superadobe technique and sustainable materials.
• Permeability: Elimination of perimeter walls to maintain ecosystem integration.
• Setbacks: A 71-meter distance from the high-tide line.

Socio-Economic Strategies

• Employment: Jobs for 120 local residents.
• Empowerment: Training in construction, management, and hospitality.
• Local Support: Support for cultural events and artists.

Social Impact Strategies

• Workshops on biodiversity awareness
• Wildlife mapping for visitors
• Community use of Typeless complex
• Support for cultural programming

Participatory Conservation Strategies

• Collaboration with NGOs and environmental groups
• Stray dog management and gazelle surveys
• Development of a sustainable tourism framework

Technical Analysis: Turtle Habitats and Soil Quality

Sea turtle nesting depends on specific coastal conditions. Scientific data indicates that the Majara shoreline is unsuitable due to fine-grained, saline, and metal-rich soils, as well as its narrow width.

In contrast, southern and southeastern shores have light-colored, permeable, carbonate-rich sands suitable for nesting and are designated protected areas.

Vegetation and Restoration

Prosopis juliflora, introduced in the 20th century, became invasive. At Majara, approximately 80 trees were removed and replaced with over 500 native species.

Waste and Water Management

The site includes a wastewater treatment system capable of processing 20 cubic meters per day, along with a composting system handling up to 50 kg of organic waste daily.

Conclusion

The Aga Khan Award process involves rigorous field evaluation. While no project is without limitations, discussions of sustainability must be grounded in accurate data and transparent analysis.

We invite researchers, critics, and interested parties to engage further through field visits and dialogue on Hormuz Island.

_____

Salman Rassouli is an Iranian architect with a passion in green architecture and sustainable development. Starting his career path as an environmental activist, he gained a Master’s degree in environment and sustainable development from UCL in 2009. Further, he served as project manager in the NGO CENESTA, where he led projects such as “empowering nomadic people of Iran” through facilitating development of conservation plans and promotion of sustainable livelihoods. Since 2017, he started working as an architect and sustainability manager in ZAV architects, consulting the Majara and other Projects for sustainable design and environmental impact assessment.

::Zav Architects

The post A Fact-Based Reflection on Sustainability and Tourism in Hormuz appeared first on Green Prophet.

In the Veneto region of northern Italy, a kindergarten rises like a small village from the earth. Its roofs are steep and terracotta-colored, its forms simple and geometric, and its courtyards open to sky and garden. The building is called Kinder Rain, designed by the Italian studio AACM – Atelier Architettura Chinello Morandi, and it feels less like a school and more like a small settlement where children can wander, gather, and grow gardens and themselves.

At a time when many educational buildings resemble efficient boxes of steel and glass, and thankfully container houses are out (read here why container houses can be a health hazard)  Kinder Rain looks backward to move forward in the way our spirits need. Its design draws inspiration from the Casone Veneto, a traditional rural house once used by farmers and fishermen in the surrounding landscape. These structures were humble but deeply rooted in place: thick clay walls, steep roofs, and forms shaped by weather, agriculture, and the rhythms of everyday life.

Kinder Rain reinterprets this vernacular architecture through a series of pyramidal classroom volumes, clustered together like houses in a tiny town. Instead of corridors and rigid classroom grids, the kindergarten is organized around open courtyards and shared spaces.

These spaces function as an architectural commons, allowing children to move fluidly between indoor learning and outdoor play.

The result feels almost like something from a Waldorf-inspired environment, where architecture becomes part of the educational philosophy. Spaces are tactile and human-scaled, encouraging exploration and imagination rather than control. A pigmented concrete bench traces the base of the building, forming a soft threshold between garden and classroom. Children can sit, climb, gather, or simply watch the world from its edge.

Materials play a central role in this atmosphere. The kindergarten is wrapped in a continuous terracotta envelope, referencing the clay tiles and earthy construction traditions of the Veneto countryside. The tones are warm and grounded, connecting the building visually to the surrounding landscape.

Inside, wooden ceilings echo the texture of traditional thatched roofs. A skylight above the central space lets sunlight pour downward through the structure, quietly marking the passage of time during the day. Morning light spills into classrooms, while afternoon shadows stretch across the courtyards.

Each classroom opens outward into a protected patio, creating semi-enclosed outdoor rooms where lessons can spill into fresh air. These patios blur the boundary between inside and outside, an important idea in early childhood education where nature and play are inseparable.

The spatial logic of Kinder Rain follows an interplay of solids and voids. Pyramidal classrooms provide shelter and focus, while courtyards provide openness and community. At the center lies a shared internal agorà, a gathering space that allows teachers and children to see one another across the building.

The architecture is simple, but its message is powerful. Kinder Rain suggests that schools do not need to dominate their landscape or overwhelm young minds with scale and complexity. Instead, they can grow organically from local traditions and materials.

The post Kinder Rain imagines vernacular architecture for early learning appeared first on Green Prophet.

Neom, a bombastic collection of futuristic cities and resorts, has flopped as Saudi oil prices roll back reality. The Saudi plan of hosting the 2029 Asian games to be held at Trojena, a ski report in the desert, has been cancelled.

The 2029 Asian Winter Games were supposed to be Saudi Arabia’s big moment for tourism and Vision 2030, hosted at Trojena, the ambitious mountain ski resort being built inside the $500 billion Neom megaproject in the northwest desert. It would have been the first winter sporting event ever held in an Arab-speaking country, a remarkable geopolitical flex for a nation with essentially no winter sports tradition and barely any snow. (Read here about Snowmax and the dangers of artificial snow).

The Olympic Council of Asia announced the games would be postponed last month, and within days announced they would instead move to Almaty, Kazakhstan. Al Arabiya Gulf News gave no reason for the change, but the context is hard to ignore.

With oil prices down, Saudi Arabia is in fiscal trouble, and oil is the core of the problem. The kingdom’s budget deficit widened in the fourth quarter of 2025 to its highest level in five years, as lower oil prices squeezed government finances, according to Arab News.

Saudi Arabia needs crude at around $91 a barrel to balance its budget, but prices have been stuck in the low $60s for months Securities Finance Times, a gap of nearly 30% between the dream and reality.

That gap is starting to show in the kingdom’s grand ambitions of building The Mile, a 15-minute city on the Red Sea.

Saudi officials have signaled a pivot to “wiser” spending, and the government has made clear it will not hesitate to walk away from costly projects that no longer fit its priorities.

Trojena, which was already facing significant construction delays and had missed its original 2026 completion target, appears to be one casualty of that reckoning along with The Line.

Saudi officials have been quietly reviewing some of the biggest Vision 2030 projects and though they are not canceling them outright, they are stretching timelines and trimming scope.

Almaty, by contrast mades sense. Kazakhstan previously hosted the 2011 Asian Winter Games and the 2017 Winter Universiade, so the infrastructure is already there.

For Saudi Arabia, losing the games is more than a sporting embarrassment. It’s a signal that Vision 2030’s most spectacular promises: a ski resort in the desert, a linear city in the wilderness, a new Las Vegas on the Red Sea were always contingent on oil staying expensive. And one by one, reality is doing the editing that ambition refused to do. If Americans pull through on fusion (see Xcimer), OPEC oil will be over.

The post Saudi Arabia cancels the Asian games at Neom’s Trojena appeared first on Green Prophet.

A new female starchitect on the rise? BM Studios is an architectural firm bridging the East and the West. In this article, Balsam Madi shares her approach to climate sensitive design and discusses the role of architects today.

In the UAE, architects often have more influence than they realize, particularly at the early, conceptual stages of a project. How do they weigh that responsibility? How is the role of architects today influencing climate sensitive design? We speak with Balsam Madi from BM Studios to learn more.

Architectural teams are typically structured into distinct roles as concept architects, design development teams, specifiers, and project managers. But these roles frequently operate in silos, especially within large corporations, she tells Green Prophet.

Design managers, who liaise across teams and maintain continuity, are still relatively rare. This hierarchy has a direct impact on sustainability outcomes, notes the young, aspirational architect working between Berlin and Dubai at the firm she founded, BM Studios.

In Balsam’s former role as a senior lead designer at KEO, sustainability was not an add-on, she says, it was embedded in her responsibility. She was expected to introduce cultural research, emerging design trends, sustainable strategies, and even AI-driven methodologies into the workflow. Knowledge transfer was central to her role: staying ahead of global conversations and translating them into locally relevant design decisions.

Sustainability entered most powerfully during the concept phase, which she was leading, through storytelling. She reinterpreted vernacular architectural techniques using contemporary aesthetics that clients respond to today, while quietly embedding passive strategies, climate intelligence, and material efficiency. Referencing comparable cities and precedents helped position sustainability not as a risky experiment, but as a proven and aspirational solution.

She also naturally stepped into a design management role, coordinating day-to-day processes, aligning design development teams, specifications, and material research. Early decisions around modularity, prefabrication, and low-impact construction often made the biggest difference, long before sustainability became a checklist. This coordination allowed quality assurance throughout costing and specification stages—precisely where silos often form and opportunities for design integrity and sustainability are lost.

As independent practitioners, architects become translators, strategists, and sometimes marketeers of sustainability, not superficially, but by demonstrating how responsible design enhances value, longevity, and relevance.

After leaving the corporate world and working independently, she found more freedom to advocate for these ideas, she tells Green Prophet. As independent practitioners, architects become translators, strategists, and sometimes marketeers of sustainability, not superficially, but by demonstrating how responsible design enhances value, longevity, and relevance. They are expected to do it all!

Over the next decade, architects who can bridge vision, systems, and persuasion will shape the industry far more than those focused on form alone, she says. Having knowledge about LEED-building, or Estidama Pearls isn’t enough.

Where Architects Truly Influence Sustainability

Landscape design for a private Dubai client. Balsam Madi.

Architects genuinely influence sustainability at three critical points: concept design, advisory roles, and spatial intelligence. The greatest constraint, however, remains resistance to change.

Balsam once proposed a flexible housing strategy inspired by open-building principles and early Japanese residential models, homes designed to evolve with families rather than forcing families to adapt to rigid layouts. The concept was profitable, socially progressive, and sustainable, yet it was not well received. The real estate sector, despite its creative veneer, often prefers familiarity over innovation.

Some of her most successful sustainability-driven typologies—projects that doubled developer yields—were led by developers who were architects themselves. Leadership mindset matters. Sustainability is not just about trees or technology; it’s about designing spaces that perform socially, economically, and environmentally over decades.

Cultural constraints also play a role. Ambition in the Middle East region is high, but often paired with impatience. Limited time for research, testing, and long-term planning undermines sustainable outcomes. Developers who have truly excelled invested in R&D and allowed innovation to mature, positioning themselves with distinct value propositions.

Architects also influence sustainability through advisory work: optimizing layouts for waste management, connecting developers with recycling or composting partners, and improving operational efficiency through better planning. These opportunities are frequently missed, often due to a narrow procurement mindset focused on either lowest cost or premium solutions, with little space in between.

Quality is another issue. First-time developers sometimes hire very young firms to reduce costs, resulting in poor layouts and dysfunctional living spaces. Sustainability, at its core, is systems thinking. When treated as isolated gestures rather than an integrated framework, it loses both meaning and impact.

From Designing Form to Designing Systems

Balsam says she loves concept design, “the iterative process, the moment when an idea clicks and demands to be built. That creative spark is sacred. But today, AI can generate iterations faster than entire teams once could. This raises an important question: if machines can explore form, what is the architect’s true value?

“For me, the answer is systems thinking and orchestration. Architecture is no longer about isolated objects; it’s about aligning structure, MEP, HVAC, materials, construction sequencing, and long-term operation from day one. Certifications like LEED touch on this, but the principle runs deeper. Designing holistically from the start avoids waste, redesign, and inefficiency later.

“One of my engineering management professors once said architects are ‘artists with rulers’ and ‘conductors of the construction orchestra.’ We don’t play every instrument, but we understand how they work together. That ability to coordinate, adapt, and guide is irreplaceable.

“This is why my practice spans architecture, interiors, landscape, and product design. Design is a universal language. If you can take an idea from concept to execution in one medium, you can do it in many. The future architect is a systems leader, strategist, and coach—someone who maintains the big picture while navigating complexity with clarity,” she tells Green Prophet.

“As a result, I developed a sustainability arm within my practice that connects businesses, end users, and service providers working on sustainable products. This includes integrating sustainable MEP systems and sensors into high-end heritage spaces—design work that is less conceptual and more coordination-driven, yet increasingly in demand as architecture moves beyond a unilateral definition.

Climate, Materials, and the UAE Context

If you are developing a dream in the UAE, “the biggest challenges in the UAE are climate and infrastructure, particularly mobility,” says Balsam.  “While Dubai’s metro is efficient, many communities lack shaded walkways, green corridors, and pedestrian-friendly design. This disproportionately affects lower-income areas and creates daily stress.”

Materially, many buildings are not designed for long-term exposure to heat and humidity, she notes. “Façades and systems often deteriorate within 20 years, reducing value and increasing vacancy. Rather than resisting the region’s appetite for renovation, we should specify materials with strong life-cycle performance, recyclability, and adaptability. Outdoor construction, in particular, needs stricter material guidelines. Initiatives like Colab in D3 advocate for sustainable material use, but ultimately this requires leadership-level commitment.

“Too often, sustainability manifests as confusion at the operational level and box-ticking at the corporate level. When it becomes jargon detached from empathy and responsibility, it loses credibility. Real change starts with environmental literacy and a shared sense of stewardship for place.”

Beyond Ratings: An Ethical Foundation

Balsam tells us, that there is a growing disconnect between global sustainability agendas and on-the-ground impact. While conferences consume enormous budgets, grassroots sustainability startups, the true innovators, often struggle to survive without access to capital.

Certifications and data have their place, she says, but when sustainability becomes bookkeeping rather than belief, skepticism follows, particularly around topics like Net Zero. “An ethical, zero-harm intention recenters sustainability around empathy—toward nature, communities, and future generations.

“When intention leads, capital can be distributed more holistically, allowing ecosystems to thrive across all roles, from change-makers to policymakers.”

About Balsam Madi, Founder of BM Studios

The post BM Studios is designing systems, not just buildings in the UAE appeared first on Green Prophet.

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Over the past decade, scientists and designers have increasingly recognized that the climate challenge is not only how we build, but what we build with. The construction industry is among the world’s largest polluters, and cement production alone accounts for roughly 8 percent of global carbon emissions.

In response, researchers worldwide are developing alternative building materials with lower environmental footprints—often based on recycled or locally abundant resources. One such innovation is now emerging from Israel: a building brick made largely from recycled Dead Sea salt.

Related: she makes pretty things out of Dead Sea crystals

Turning waste into raw material

Construction places an enormous burden on natural resources. According to the United Nations Environment Program, the sector consumes around 36 percent of global energy, contributes nearly 40 percent of CO₂ emissions, and is responsible for significant air and ecosystem pollution.

Israel, meanwhile, has limited natural construction resources. One of its most abundant materials is found at the Dead Sea, one of the world’s largest sources of industrial salt and potash. Each year, millions of tons of excess salt accumulate in evaporation ponds as a byproduct of mineral extraction. The buildup raises the lakebed, alters shorelines, and presents a long-term environmental challenge.

For decades, this surplus salt was treated as waste.

Since 2015, Danny Mendler, a professor in the Chemistry Department at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, has been working to change that perception. His research treats Dead Sea salt not as a nuisance to be removed, but as a raw material that can be refined and reused.

Mendler developed a process that compresses salt with a small percentage of additional materials—around five percent—under high pressure to create solid bricks with strength approaching that of conventional concrete.

“If we can replace even a fraction of cement with salt, the environmental impact would be substantial,” Mendler explains. “Reducing cement use directly reduces carbon emissions.”

From chemistry lab to architectural design

In 2025, the research moved beyond the laboratory through a collaboration with architecture students at the Technion – Israel Institute of Technology. As part of the Faculty of Architecture and Town Planning’s Studio 1:1 program, led by Michal Bleicher and Dan Price, students translated the material into a workable building system.

The group examined the physical qualities of salt—its mass, translucency, and structural behavior—and designed a prototype structure they called the Mediterranean Igloo. Through this process, they defined a standardized brick size of 8 × 8 × 24 centimeters, a 1:3 ratio that allows modular flexibility in construction.

The outcome was a uniform, scalable brick made primarily from Dead Sea salt—adaptable in shape, thickness, and surface texture, and compatible with contemporary building needs. Compared with conventional materials, the salt bricks offer a lower-pollution alternative while repurposing an existing environmental burden.

International recognition

The project was presented in October at Change: The Shape of Transformation, part of the Venice Architecture Biennale. Selected from 55 academic institutions worldwide, the Technion team was among just ten invited to exhibit.

The students transported physical salt bricks to Venice, drawing significant interest from architects and researchers. According to Bleicher, the response underscored growing global attention to material innovation in architecture.

“This is a material that is both natural and engineered,” she says. “Our next goal is to construct a full-scale structure in Israel using these bricks. We believe this approach can turn a serious environmental problem into a practical solution.”

What stands in the way

Despite its promise, widespread adoption is not imminent. The construction industry is notoriously conservative, and introducing new materials requires years of testing, certification, and regulatory approval.

“Every new building material must pass extensive strength, durability, and safety standards,” Bleicher notes. “That takes time, funding, and supportive regulation—which is often lacking.”

Still, the idea that decades of accumulated salt waste could become part of a cleaner construction future reflects a broader shift in environmental thinking: viewing crisis not only as a risk, but as a catalyst for innovation.

This article was prepared by Zavit, the news agency of the Israeli Society for Ecology and Environmental Sciences. It is republished with permission.

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Dreaming big is good. It gives us something to strive for. But calling failed projects sustainable from the outset is pitfall that architects should avoid. For years, Saudi Arabia’s vision for The Line — a 120-mile mirrored city slicing through the desert — was marketed as the future of sustainable urban living. No cars. No emissions. Everything within five minutes. A climate-friendly city built from scratch.

But as a sweeping investigation by the Financial Times now documents, The Line has collided head-on with something no amount of ambition can override: physics, finance, and ecological reality.

According to the FT’s reporting, based on interviews with more than 20 former architects, engineers, and executives, the project unravelled under the weight of its own contradictions. They spoke anonymously for fears of lawsuits. A quick digging into PR and you can find which ones readily took the money and tried to make the idiotic project come to life. Costs for the “eco” city ballooned into the trillions, engineering assumptions failed the most basic stress tests, and foreign investment never arrived at the scale Saudi planners expected.

One former architect recalled warning leadership that suspending a 30-storey structure upside-down above a marina could turn it into a “pendulum” — swaying, accelerating, and eventually failing by dropping into the marina. Another described sewage systems that required hundreds of shuttle cars to move waste uphill because gravity no longer worked in a vertical fantasy city. Even flushing a toilet became a design problem. That’s what happens at Burj in the UAE where poop trucks need to unload the sewage daily.

At the center of The Line and the Neom project stood Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, whose vision for Neom was intended to catapult the kingdom beyond oil and into a post-carbon future. Yet the investigation shows how dissent was discouraged, timelines were politically fixed, and feasibility studies were often replaced by renderings.

Green on the Surface, Fragile Underneath

From a climate perspective, the cracks run deeper. The FT reports that building just the first 20 modules of The Line would have required more cement annually than France produces, and up to 60% of global green steel capacity — a sobering reminder that “green” materials are not infinite. Cement is definitely not a sustainable building material. When a single project distorts global supply chains, sustainability claims begin to ring hollow.

Urban planners have long warned that megaprojects often fail not because of lack of technology, but because they ignore human behavior and ecological limits. The late urbanist Jane Jacobs famously argued that cities thrive through incremental complexity, not total control. The Line attempted the opposite: a sealed, pre-engineered world with no room for organic growth.

Ecologists raised additional alarms. Bird migration experts cited by BirdLife International flagged the mirrored wall as a potential mass-collision hazard for millions of birds moving along the East Africa–West Asia flyway — an issue that design tweaks like dotted glass could not realistically solve.

A Pattern We’ve Seen Before

This is not the first time a futuristic desert city promised sustainability and delivered disruption instead. From Egypt’s stalled administrative capital to past “eco-cities” in China that never filled with people, the lesson repeats: cities are living systems, not machines.

It’s a useful contrast to projects like Masdar’s eco-city experiment in Abu Dhabi, which has evolved in fits and starts over time—more incremental, less totalizing than a single, 120 mile gesture. Green Prophet covered Masdar early on, including its first 500 homes. We’ve been there, we’ve seen the spectacle.

The world needs more sustainable architects like Ronak Roshan who sees the location, the land, and the people.

The FT notes that Saudi Arabia has already spent over $50 billion, with much of the construction now slowed or paused. People already living in villages nearby have been killed, arrested for life, with a few on death row. What remains are colossal foundations, excavated deserts, displaced communities, and a scaled-down ambition that bears little resemblance to the original vision.

The failure of The Line is not a failure of imagination. It is a failure of restraint by western architects and planners who go along with the charade. Who is holding these firms accountable? This is actually a reasonable kind of project for the UN to take on and challenge.

Climate-resilient futures will not be built by single, monumental gestures, but by repairing existing cities, restoring ecosystems, and working with land rather than against it. The most sustainable city is rarely the one that looks most radical in a rendering.

As one urban expert quoted by the FT put it bluntly: “As a thought experiment, great. But don’t build thought experiments.

Related reading on Green Prophet:
• Saudi Arabia’s energy-water nexus meets Vision 2030 (NEOM and giga-project context)
• NEOM’s Aquellum and the weekly “fantasy” cycle of desert futurism
• A Middle East biodiversity corridor: birds helping Israel, Jordan, and Palestine cooperate

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