We need to talk about Saudi Arabia

Recent posts on LinkedIn (including those by RIBA Chair Jack Pringle and former NLA Chief Peter Murray) suggest that working in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia has become an acceptable norm for UK architects and built environment consultants. While no questions are being asked, plenty of justifications are being offered. Here I address some of the most common justifications that I have heard or seen online.

We are designing at the forefront of sustainability

While the buildings may comply with LEED and BREEAM certification, these accreditation systems are increasingly criticized for their methodology. LEED Platinum airports in the KSA are, for instance, a clear contradiction in terms. Beyond the questionable credibility of these schemes, buildings that claim sustainability often serve as mere band-aids (a term developed by MOULD, the research collective of which I am a member) which fail to cover, let alone heal, the wounds of climate breakdown. In KSA, these wounds run exceptionally deep. Saudi Aramco, the state's oil company, stands as the world's largest oil and gas extractor, with the national budget heavily dependent on continued extraction and its resulting CO2 emissions. As Saudi Energy Minister Prince Abdulaziz bin Salman declares, "We are still going to be the last man standing, and every molecule of hydrocarbon will come out." With these resources projected to last another 73 years at current extraction rates, any new KSA building inevitably becomes part of an ongoing campaign of planned climate breakdown.

The majority of KSA buildings are funded by a regime that is intentionally obstructing developments in climate justice at COP and other forums. For example, at COP 29, KSA was accused of unilaterally editing the main text. In this context, no new building can credibly claim to be "sustainable"—such claims merely serve as surface greenwashing over an entrenched system of environmental destruction.

In addition, any designs will have to mitigate increasingly intolerable temperatures. Saudi Arabia has warmed at a rate 50% higher than the rest of the Northern Hemisphere's landmass over the past four decades, and this trend shows no signs of slowing. Buildings designed to combat these temperatures create an ecocidal feedback loop—consuming ever more energy to offset the effects of burning fossil fuels. Moreover, the ongoing urban expansion perpetuates a cycle of endless growth that drives climate breakdown. For all these reasons, no new building in KSA can credibly claim to be sustainable.

Our buildings will be an agent for social change

This argument is commonly made, as exemplified by Stuart Latham, managing partner and senior executive partner at Foster + Partners: "Saudi Arabia is rapidly opening up to the rest of the world and through our work on these ambitious and innovative projects, we are at the forefront of progress, enabling society to embrace positive change." Snohetta's Kjetil Trædal Thorsen expresses a similar view, stating about their KSA projects: "You can't control the future completely but you can provide people with the right tools, and by providing them with the right tools at least there is an opportunity to move one step ahead." Ina Tin, senior adviser and Saudi Arabia expert at Amnesty Norway, dismisses these stances as a blend of naivety and cynicism (in an article well worth reading).

This argument, in all its hubris, misunderstands architecture's limited agency and influence under an autocratic regime. It perpetuates modernist myths about architecture as a driver of social change, casting architects as heroic geniuses who can help reshape society at will. In reality, architecture in KSA serves merely as window-dressing for progress while repressive policies continue unabated underneath (as summarised by Human Rights Watch in their 2024 report). Architecture's powerlessness to effect social change is further reinforced by developers who control the supply chain, reducing buildings to vessels for capitalist extraction. Any building project thus sits far down the regime's chain of command; they have far more effective levers to pull to maintain control. Buildings will do nothing—absolutely nothing—to save the lives of the 198 people executed in the first 9 months of 2024. It will not help overturn policies that brutally discriminate against women and LGBTQ+ people. It will not stop the genocidal war in Yemen. And so on.

If we pulled out of KSA, someone else would do it anyway

This follows the same flawed logic as statements like "If I stopped flying, planes would take off anyway"—which misses the point that fewer planes would fly if more people stopped flying. Those working in KSA often implicitly assume that if they withdrew, less capable designers would take their place, and therefore their continued involvement provides a better service. However, as argued above, no building in KSA can be considered beneficial.

History shows us clear examples, most notably the apartheid regime in South Africa, where boycotts proved to be powerful catalysts for change. Pulling out is the best course of action.

We just design the buildings; we don’t build them

This is the standard get-out clause for architects and consultants to absolve themselves of responsibility for the deadly conditions in KSA construction. The excuse is too often traced back to Zaha Hadid and her infamous "I have nothing to do with the workers," but anyone working in KSA is in a chain of oppression and exploitation. Architects cannot simply look away from the estimated 21,000 deaths and 100,000 missing migrant construction workers who build their designs. They cannot dismiss the brutal conditions and illegal contracts that amount to forced labour, as documented in a complaint to the UN's International Labour Organization. Architects cannot ignore the outcry from US Senators, African Trade Unions, and Amnesty International about FIFA's likely rubber-stamping of the 2036 Football World Cup to KSA. Indeed, it is more likely that architects working in KSA are complicit in what Barney Ronay describes as corporate manslaughter in his brilliant, excoriating article.

Every building in KSA is part of a lethal and exploitative supply chain, and architects working there must decide if they are willing to be complicit in this system.

We would not work on NEOM

This claim is often heard from architects working in other parts of KSA, away from the infamous Line and associated projects. It is an argument that attempts to claim moral high ground while demonising the NEOM architects. NEOM is indeed at the pinnacle of social and spatial vileness, and no one with any conscience should be working on it, as Kate Wagner has so lucidly expounded in her various articles.[1] But it is only the tip of a much larger despotic system that funds much development in KSA through the $700 billion Public Investment Fund, which is directly controlled by Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, and is linked directly to human rights abuses. Perhaps NEOM designers are more honest in not even trying to make moral claims and instead just indulging in architectural self-gratification on behalf of their Saudi masters.

We have to keep the office in London running

This is understandable but not sufficient as an argument. Over the past thirty years, the UK architectural scene has been a race to the bottom, with fees slashed and the role of architect severely diminished. The RIBA has remained passive as increasingly harsh procurement systems have taken hold. These changes have particularly affected mid-sized practices, which have historically produced the most innovative work. While larger firms have survived by squeezing this vulnerable middle tier, the recent downturn in UK construction has forced them to seek work elsewhere. Saudi Arabia comes to the fore as a honeypot of high fees and abundant opportunities—despite the human, planetary, and ethical costs outlined above. This creates a destructive ripple effect in the UK: firms working in Saudi Arabia use their excess profits to undercut competitors who have made the ethical choice to avoid that market. This dynamic further accelerates the decline of the architectural profession in Britain.

It is understandable that firms feel responsible for keeping staff employed, but have staff been asked about whether they are happy to work on projects in KSA, particularly the women and LGBTQ+ community? And how necessary is it to maintain ranking in the AJ100, which only measures size? Or, in the end, is the primary objective to increase profit margins and, with it the size of the directors’ emoluments? These are not easy questions, but they are necessary ones.

The RIBA and ARB Codes don’t stop us from working in KSA

This is true, but only because these codes are so ineffectual. As I argued in Architecture Depends, my hairdresser could meet both codes, yet she isn't responsible for other people's lives and the planet's future as architects are. The codes are feeble primarily because they focus on defining the architect's relationship with the client. "The architect's primary responsibility is to the client," states the ARB code. When that client is embedded in an autocratic regime, any ethical responsibility is simply washed away.

A more compelling statement emerged from the 2018 RIBA Ethics and Sustainable Development Commission: 'RIBA Council reasserted the Institute's unequivocal commitment to placing public interest, social purpose, ethics and sustainable development at the heart of its activities.' If taken at face value, this declaration should preclude any work in KSA. Yet the "unequivocal" has become decidedly equivocal, as evidenced by 20 RIBA members exhibiting at the 2024 Cityscape Global event in KSA, the world's largest development event.

Professional conduct follows codified rules, focused not on broader societal obligations but on serving clients and employers. Ethical conduct, however, cannot be reduced to universal rules—it requires individuals to face their specific circumstances and determine what they can morally accept. As Zygmunt Bauman concludes in his Postmodern Ethics, "If in doubt, consult your conscience." The matter of individual conscience should be at the front of all decisions about working in KSA. Anyone working in KSA should inform themselves about the human rights, environmental and political context, and then face these conditions from an ethical viewpoint. Architecture does not stand outside these moral conflicts; it is part of them. I applaud the UK practices that have decided on ethical grounds not to work in KSA, and despair of those who try to justify their engagement with spurious arguments.