Every housing crisis eventually becomes a land question, and every land question eventually becomes a values question. The United States' West Coast has arrived at that point. As cities from Los Angeles to Seattle search for parcels to build the affordable housing they have promised for years, they keep landing on the same answer: the park or the greenbelt. What looks like a zoning decision is a referendum on which form of wellbeing a city is willing to sacrifice for another.
Amid growing economic, political, and climatic instability, the 2026 OBEL Award highlights the need for architectural approaches that rethink both existing and emerging infrastructures. The title for this edition is "Systems' Hack," where "systems" are understood as interrelated mechanisms governed by shared rules and "hacking" is framed as a strategic intervention that seeks to alter how these mechanisms operate. Within this framework, the OBEL Foundation has announced the Balearic Social Housing Model as the winner of this year's award, while also announcing a new cycle in 2027 under the same topic. The Balearic Social Housing Model is recognized for "transforming the role of social housing administration in the Balearic Islands between 2019 and 2023," proposing new approaches in response to an acute housing shortage and a critically limited public rental housing stock in Spain.
The 21st Century ROAD to Housing Act, a bipartisan United States Senate housing bill, automatically became law on 11 July 2026. Officially the "Renewing Opportunity in the American Dream (ROAD) to Housing Act," the bill has been called the most significant housing measure in the country since the National Affordable Housing Act in 1990, and "the most comprehensive housing legislation in decades." In a context of global housing crisis, the text revises federal housing programs and expands available financing options, provides grants for communities, targets regulatory requirements for construction, and addresses the concentration of ownership. This law contributes to worldwide initiatives for adequate housing, such as limits on short-term rentals, taxing unoccupied residential units, and the transformation and adaptive reuse of existing structures, with the dual objective of increasing the number of residential units and making existing ones available.
Urban planning is often confused with adjacent disciplines: urban design, environmental policy, civic strategy, local politics, or data analytics. Moreover, the overlap in training and responsibilities between planning and urban practices makes the field difficult to define clearly. In practice, it is often easier to recognize the consequences of bad planning than to articulate the outcomes of good planning. When planning is working well for residents, it should disappear altogether. It should remove friction from daily life so that people would not think to credit a discipline at all. At its core, urban planning is the relationship people have with their environments, and when that relationship is functioning, the mechanics of housing, transportation, affordability, access, and inclusion should feel ordinary and expected.
This has not always been the lived experiences of planning practices, and in many places, it still is not. Urban planning has historically served as an instrument of division, used to segregate, exclude, and erase communities under the language of progress and order. Zoning maps, infrastructure investment, and land-use decisions are expressions of who holds power and that history is embedded in the boundaries that continue to organize cities around the world. It is embedded socially, as well as physically, in the assumption that participation in planning requires expertise or formal training that most residents lack.
There is a standard way of telling the history of architecture and food. It begins with the human decision to cultivate, to store, to distribute, to consume, and ends with the building that decision produced. In this version of events, food is the occasion and architecture is the response.
But what if the story runs differently? What if the tomato built Almería? What if the cod redesigned the North Atlantic? What if the soybean is, at this moment, constructing a port in Santos and demolishing a forest in the Cerrado simultaneously, and the architect has simply not been told? These are descriptions of processes already complete, or well underway, that have produced some of the most spatially consequential contemporary landscapes. Much of the built environment is shaped by the pressures, metabolisms, and territorial ambitions of what we eat. Architecture, in this, is often less a project than a consequence, and the discipline has been telling its own story from the wrong end.
The ReGreeneration project, a Horizon Europe project led by Inetum and supported by C40 Cities, ARUP, Placemaking Europe, and several others, operates as an active collaboration with local governments, private companies, academia, and civil society organizations at the intersection of urban regeneration, green public spaces, and neighborhood-scale design. Its premise addresses how European cities are built and maintained and how they experience a changing climate, arguing that cities must fundamentally change to remain livable under accelerating climate pressures.
Collective housing is a hallmark of Europe. The 2nd edition of the award is looking for collective housing projects to highlight their social impact and the policy frameworks that support them. Submissions are free and open until 30 April.
Post-industrial modernity generated a wide range of collective housing models that left a lasting mark on European cities and architectural history: from the Hofs of Vienna and the Weissenhof Siedlung to Le Corbusier's Unité d'habitation and the works presented at Berlin's Interbau.
The excesses of the modern movement cast a long shadow over social housing – a stigma that post-modernity failed to dispel. Yet since the turn of the millennium, new forms of collective housing have re-emerged, reconnecting with welfare-state ideals amid pressures from urbanization, property market tensions and ecological urgency.
Amid the rapid build-out of data centres and AI economies across the Greater Bay Area—and alongside the celebration of AI as a tool and "author," as featured in 2025 Hong Kong–Shenzhen Bi-City Biennale of Urbanism\Architecture (Hong Kong)—a parallel question becomes unavoidable: how do the planning and construction of AI infrastructure actually begin to shape everyday life? Many of the facilities already built remain intentionally distant from daily experience. The "cloud" may be marketed as immaterial, but its architecture is profoundly physical: high-power, high-heat, service-heavy environments that are often sited in remote or low-density areas to take advantage of lower land costs and to minimize friction with nearby communities. Security and risk management further reinforce this logic. Data centres hold sensitive, privileged information—corporate assets, legal records, government and institutional data—and remoteness becomes part of their operating model, keeping the infrastructures of AI both spatially and socially out of sight.
As artificial intelligence continues to disrupt sectors of the economy and reshape entire industries, institutions and individuals alike are bracing—and rapidly adapting—to the changes that machines seem to hold over our heads. Yet the more precise pressure is not simply AI altering the way people work and live, but the business models and investment logics of the companies developing these systems: the concentration of capital, the new requirements for compute, the race for compartmentalized talent, and the infrastructural footprint needed to sustain it. In the Greater Bay Area—anchored by Guangzhou, Shenzhen, and Hong Kong—this dynamic is especially pronounced. Government-led initiatives are actively accelerating the industry's growth, with policy and planning mechanisms beginning to translate an ostensibly intangible field into physical form: zoning updates, earmarked land, and the emergence of AI-oriented building types, from research laboratories to large-scale data centers.
Cities around the world share a common goal: to become healthier and greener, supported by civic infrastructure that restores ecosystems and strengthens public life. The question is how to reach this. Global climate targets, local building codes, and municipal standards increasingly guide designers and planners toward better choices. Still, many cities struggle to translate these frameworks into everyday, street-level comfort and long-term ecological protection. What happens if the city is no longer treated as a traditional city, but as a national park?
National parks operate through systems of protection that treat land as a network of ecological relationships rather than a collection of isolated sites. They establish a shared baseline for what must be preserved, maintained, and made accessible over time. When this logic is applied to the urban environment, success can inspire pride and a sense of shared responsibility among designers, policymakers, and residents, fostering a collective commitment to health, habitat, and civic infrastructure.
Urban renewal is inherently fraught—financially complex, politically exposed, stakeholder-dense, and almost guaranteed to leave someone dissatisfied. Precisely for these reasons, many cities default to inertia rather than risk the upheaval that comes with reworking entrenched urban fabrics, their residences, and their dynamics; once the "sleeping bear" is prodded, unexpected complications tend to multiply.
Miyashita Park (Miyashita Kōen), located in Shibuya, Tokyo, crystallizes this dilemma. Its current form—a layered, mixed-use complex balancing commercial activity with a publicly accessible park—emerged from years of negotiation, critique, and recalibration. The result is a distinctive example of a public-private partnership that seeks to align urban amenity, everyday leisure, and economic viability, producing a new piece of city that hosts public life while underwriting its own upkeep.
Edinburgh, Scotland's capital, has long been recognized for its rich cultural history and intricate urban fabric. The city thrives within its museums, tenement housing, and shops nestled in Georgian buildings. In 2022, Time Out ranked Edinburgh as the world's best city, citing its efficiency across community building and urban systems such as public transport. However, as climate change makes its effects progressively visible at an urban level, the city inevitably runs into a pressing dilemma: how to sustain this quality of life in increasingly difficult conditions.
The journey toward this balance unfolds through several interconnected strategies, such as retrofitting, adaptive reuse, circular design, and community collaboration, each contributing to Edinburgh's evolving vision of a sustainable urban future.
Comayagua is a city in central Honduras nestled in a valley with the same name. It holds a pivotal place in the nation's history, having served as its colonial and early republican capital for over 300 years. However, when the capital was relocated to Tegucigalpa in 1880, Comayagua's urban expansion halted, inadvertently preserving an ample and rich heritage. By the early 1990s, much of the city's architectural legacy was in a state of disrepair. Recognizing the urgent need to protect it, the governments of Honduras and Spain initiated a collaborative effort, with the objective of initiating a long-term restoration program to create a policy framework that would ensure the preservation of the city's historic center for years to come.
Transit-Oriented Development (TOD) is a comprehensive urban planning strategy aimed at creating dense, walkable, and vibrant neighborhoods centered around public transportation hubs. By seamlessly integrating residential, commercial, and recreational facilities within close proximity to transit nodes, TODs seek to reduce automobile dependency, increase public transit ridership, and stimulate local economic development. Government agencies play a pivotal role in supporting these developments through zoning reforms, easing floor area ratios (FARs), selling air rights, and facilitating public-private partnerships to secure capital for public infrastructure. While TODs have gained global traction, East Asia boasts some of the most successful examples. Conversely, efforts to replicate these models in different contexts—such as New York City—highlight the importance of adapting TOD principles to local conditions, geographical characteristics, and community needs.
In recent years, Public-Private Partnerships (PPPs) have become a significant model for delivering large-scale infrastructure projects around the world. These partnerships bring together the strengths of both the public sector, represented by governments or municipalities, and the private sector, combining their resources, expertise, and investment power. In the context of architecture and urban development, PPPs are increasingly being used to address the complex needs of growing cities, helping to finance, build, and maintain critical projects that would be difficult for either sector to accomplish alone. But what exactly are PPPs, and how do they function in the built environment? This article explores the concept of PPPs, providing examples from across the globe to illustrate how these partnerships are shaping the future of urban spaces, sometimes beyond commercial gains. Furthermore, by exploring the different projects, the article aims to develop a framework around PPPs' positive and negative potential impacts.
With expanding urban populations and evolving consumption patterns, cities are faced with challenges pertaining to waste management. Traditional approaches centered on collection and disposal currently seem inadequate in the face of serious environmental concerns and resource scarcity. Waste management has become a focused topic to address, being introduced as a key strategy towards circular economies. The Zero Waste concept hopes to transform the way cities manage urban waste and build supportive cultures around it.
Harvard University Graduate School of Design (GSD) has just announced Thandi Loewenson as the winner of the 2024 Wheelwright Prize. The prestigious $100,000 grant is dedicated to supporting innovative research in contemporary architecture with a global perspective. Loewenson’s project, “Black Papers: Beyond the Politics of Land, Towards African Policies of Earth & Air,” explores the social and spatial dynamics in modern Africa.
The Spanish city of Barcelona, one of Europe's top tourist destinations, has announced a plan to ban apartment rentals to tourists by November 2028. The move, announced by Mayor Jaume Collboni, aims to alleviate the long-standing housing crisis, lower prices for residents, improve livability, and increase the city’s affordable housing stock. Over the past 10 years, the rise in short-term rentals has driven rents up by 68%, and the cost of buying a house by 38%, contributing significantly to a cost-of-living crisis.
