When we talk about architecture or space, have you ever wondered why some places feel like they belong, while others seem strangely alien? How can a street or a courtyard gather people, while another pushes them apart?
Let’s look back to a time when we were kids. Coming home from school with friends, playing in the neighborhood alleys is where we made the best memories that felt eternal. But one day, construction trucks rolled in, claiming this was no longer our place. We witnessed those spaces change, buried under high towers of glass and concrete where people hesitated to enter. When we lost our own ‘Abahani’ field, we also lost a piece of our origin and belonging. These memory lanes live on in our hearts and minds, but not in our built environment. And it makes us wonder: where do today’s children gather?
My question is, why do we allow the places where we truly belong to disappear? Or could we design spaces that honor the past while embracing the future?
The Cracks in the City We Inherited
Walking through any contemporary city, the tension between ambition and alienation can be sensed. The streets of Dhaka, Delhi, São Paulo, or even Los Angeles raises the questions of contradictions where a high-rise luxury condominium proudly stands beside a crumbling settlement; a highway cutting through what was once a neighborhood; the once-lively waterfront now reduced to sewage and concrete embankments. These are not isolated issues. They reveal multiple overlapping crises in the urban built environment.
Ecological fragility is a reality we encounter and are affected by. It is evident that cities are engines of climate change but also its frontline victims. Paved-over wetlands increase flooding; urban heat islands intensify rising temperatures; carbon-heavy construction accelerates global warming. While the rapid urbanization offers the trade-off between sensitivity or business, architecture too often treats the environment as a backdrop rather than a lifeblood for the benefit. For example, we can see how Jakarta is sinking under the weight of uncontrolled development. At the same time, Dhaka is losing Buriganga and canals to encroachment─ choking both cities as ecology is ignored.
Secondly, social fragmentation is an aftermath of urban sprawl and urbanization. Gentrification pushes communities away from the very places they helped shape, while high-rises isolate and public spaces are privatized or policed leaving fewer places for genuine encounters. To relate, in many Indian metros, “gated communities” flourish while informal settlements are demolished, producing parallel cities for the rich and the poor. This phenomenon is broadly seen in the Global South,
Moreover, global cities increasingly look the same with glass towers, shopping malls, and flyovers. Cities lose memory, rootedness, and uniqueness when local materials, traditions, and narratives are sidelined. While international modernity was meant to unify, it has flattened identity. From ornamentation to Modernist minimalism and today’s contemporary styles, architectural trends have spread like global fashions, leading to cultural homogenization. Comparing a skyline in Dubai, Shanghai, or Dhaka’s Gulshan, it’s often hard to tell them apart. The “anywhere city” erases belonging.
Contemporary practice thus often falls short. Standardized solutions and globalized aesthetics erase local character, leaving cities that feel indistinguishable. Sustainability, though widely discussed, remains inconsistently applied, with construction still consuming 40% of global energy and producing a third of greenhouse gas emissions. Social dimensions are also neglected, leaving sterile environments instead of vibrant, human-centered spaces.
These crises reveal that architecture and urbanism have not kept pace with the needs of time. In a world where too many buildings could be anywhere and thus belong nowhere, we need an approach that offers a way to create places rooted in culture, yet open to change.
A Compass Is Needed
Any philosophy is a framework that navigates direction, coherence, ethical grounding and critical lens. Too often, planners, urban designers, and even city authorities operate without clear guidance. Thus, briefs remain vague, decisions pile up incoherently, and when trade-offs become difficult, ethics are overlooked. Therefore, a structured advanced framework is necessary where choices can align around values caring for people, place, and planet that goes beyond style-chasing.
However, this does not mean that the philosophies of the last century are irrelevant. Instead, the changing realities of the built environment demand that we revisit, adapt, and reinvent them. While past movements offered powerful insights, they did not fully address today’s intertwined challenges of ecology, equity, and belonging. What we need now are approaches that treat buildings not as isolated objects, but as catalysts for community, well-being, and resilience.
The Missing Link after Modernism, Postmodernism, and Placemaking
There have been numerous philosophies from the last century that shaped the built environment we inhabit today. Each movement has inspired how we build, yet each has also left important gaps.
From Modernism, with its minimalist and monumental ambitions seen in works such as Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater, Le Corbusier’s Villa Savoye, and the Sydney Opera House, to the more recent Placemaking approach exemplified by Pioneer Courthouse Square, the world has witnessed its footprints.
Modernism promised progress, efficiency, and universality, but often reduced human life to functional boxes, erasing cultural continuity. Postmodernism reacted by reintroducing symbolism, play, and historical references, yet at times became superficial like a collage without grounding, treating context as an afterthought. In turn, placemaking brought people back into the conversation but it remained limited to small-scale interventions, unable to address systemic issues of infrastructure, climate, or equity. These philosophies taught us much, but none have fully equipped us to deal with today’s intertwined crises of climate, social inequity, and belonging.
Do We Need Another “Ism”?
For much of the 20th century, architects believed they were building for the world, not the neighborhood. But as cities filled with generic skylines, a quiet rebellion began.
First, “Contextualism” in architecture as it is generally understood: 1960s–70s- Classic Contextualism arose as a corrective to modernist universalism. It urged architects to respect the “context” of a site by echoing the scale of neighboring buildings, aligning rooflines, and matching materials. The guiding principle was simple: do not stand out, blend in. And for a while, it worked and made it a valuable design ethic. But the movement often stopped at the surface. Facade treatments, skyline harmony, and material mimicry took precedence, while deeper layers of culture, ecology, and history were left untouched.
Second, the other “new contextualisms” that appeared before: 2010s- From the late 20th century onwards, several architects and theorists attempted to expand “Contextualism” to include cultural memory, identity, or even political narratives. These experiments enriched individual projects, but most remained practice-specific, tied to particular aesthetics or personal philosophies. They did not cohere into a systematic framework that could anticipate change or guide resilience. At their weakest, they risked collapsing into stylistic gestures of sensitivity rather than a method for resilience.
Third, the emerging shift: 2020s–Present- Today, a new generation is pushing for something more ambitious: a sensible contextual theory that actively builds resilience. What has been missing is an ability to work across multiple layers of reality simultaneously. Thus, a holistic, integrative framework that recognizes that every site is at once ecological, social, cultural, political, economic, and temporal is evident. This is where “New Contextualism” steps in. The “new” lies not in style but in approach: a replicable, layered framework capable of operating across time (past, present, future), scope (from ecology to culture), and scale (repeatable framework building to city).
What’s new about New Contextualism? – Introducing the philosophy
What makes it new is its method. New Contextualism is a design philosophy that positions itself to ensure buildings are not isolated objects but catalysts for belonging, well-being, and resilience.It is structured and scalable, anticipating needs and stresses, ensuring designs remain relevant as the “future” arrives.
Although it is not an isolated theory, it draws ideas from existing models like Modernism, Postmodernism, and Critical Regionalism in a more nurtured and advanced manner. It inherits the spirit of resisting placelessness but is process-based rather than style-based, incorporating systems thinking, regenerative ethics, and participatory design. For example, a Heritage Eco Resort at Bagura, a developing city with rich Buddhist heritage of Bangladesh, could apply community co-creation, unlike typical Critical Regionalism, which rarely includes participatory economic planning.
Architects like Bjarke Ingels, Shigeru Ban, and Alejandro Aravena demonstrate how contextual, sustainable, and socially conscious principles can be effectively applied in contemporary projects. Works such as Toronto’s Royal Ontario Museum extension, New York’s High Line, and coastal office developments that integrate ecology illustrate New Contextualism’s ethos: design that is locally rooted, globally aware, and future-ready.
It is globally relevant as it proposes a holistic context-agnostic framework where design engages principles and ten intertwined layers; only the answers change with place. This approach does not treat context as a backdrop or a single reference point, but as a living, layered, and evolving fabric. By weaving together these layers, New Contextualism fills the gap left by previous movements, offering a compass that is as attentive to justice and ecology as it is to memory and form. The idea can be summed up simply as:
- Sense of place and identity, honoring culture and memory while embracing contemporary design.
- Sustainability minimizes energy, carbon, and waste while adapting to the local climate.
- Social engagement creates inclusive, life-giving spaces that encourage interaction and well-being.
Five Guiding Principles: Designing with Time, Data, and Justice
New Contextualism reconciles the shortcomings of Modernism and Postmodernism by offering a framework that is both timeless and timely. Its principles emphasize flexibility, responsibility, and cultural depth.
- Forward-thinking design
Architecture and urban design is for the future, not the present, because by the time a building opens, the present has already passed. Architects must anticipate the needs of future generations and recognize the long lifespan and impact of their work. - Informed by prediction
Big data and AI provide tools to model scenarios, forecast stresses, and anticipate needs. Used responsibly, they allow design to remain relevant over time, grounded in past patterns but oriented toward emerging futures. - Learning from the past
Every site carries historical and cultural layers that shape identity. Understanding and respecting these patterns ensures that design is not imposed but grows from the - A broad sense of context
Context spans more than form or style. It operates across scales from micro to macro, local to global, and across ten overlapping layers: social, economic, political, historical, ecological, scientific, geographical, cultural, architectural, and urban. Together, these layers guide a fuller understanding of place. - Equity and justice
Every building becomes part of the existing fabric of community and nature. Design must protect the “right to the city,” ensuring that no project strips away people’s access to space, belonging, or shared resources. Architecture should be inclusive, equitable, and responsive to diverse needs.
The 10 Layer Lens: How We “Do” Context
Every project begins with three phases: Read, Plan, and Process. New Contextualism gives particular weight to the first, reading the site. Before form or function, it is necessary to understand the context. The 10-layer lens: Social, Economic, Spiritual, Historical, Ecological, Scientific/Technological, Geographical, Cultural, Architectural, and Urban, offers a framework for that reading. Not every layer carries equal weight each time, but together they ensure a fuller picture—the result: architecture that feels inevitable in its place yet legible to the broader world.
For example, the undergraduate thesis “The Flowing Sanctity: From Myth to Matter” (2023), where context was not decorative but rather was the design generator. The project reimagined Panatirtha, a spiritual pilgrimage site in Sunamganj, Bangladesh, where Advaita Acharya’s temple stands. Traditionally visited only once a year for ritual bathing, the site risked slipping into obscurity. Through contextual reading, the thesis proposed a new dimension: a space alive in daily life as well as in ritual moments.
Social & cultural layers revealed how pilgrimage and tourism could sustain the economy of the permanent community. Design interventions, therefore, sought to strengthen both local livelihood and artistic vitality. Historical & spatial layers traced community paths across paddy fields and mapped memory routes connecting temple and settlement. These became the skeleton of new circulation networks, ensuring the space did not feel alien but grounded in familiar movement. Spiritual & cultural concepts, especially Advaita, or Non-dualism, shaped the spatial form. Courts for culture and for ritual were not divided but interwoven, open to all identities, reinforcing the message: “All is one.”
Through this approach, the space was reinvented as open for all, more enriched, respecting the rich-rooted culture of Sunaamgonj, and keeping the sense of belongingness of the place with people intact. Although among the ten layers, spiritual, history, culture, and social identities were highlighted, the economy, urban, and other layers were accounted for, not all layers were weighed equally.
Another thesis, Rejuvenating Kallyanpur Khal by Oindriza Reza Nodi, addressed a neglected urban canal in Dhaka where ecological, political, and urban layers carried greater weight. The project framed the canal not as leftover infrastructure but as a civic spine, combining flood management with community access. Despite repeated efforts by authorities to dredge and remove encroachments, recovery has remained unsuccessful. For lasting results, however, a holistic relationship between the canal system and its neighborhoods must be established, as demonstrated by cities that have successfully revived their waterways.
The study explored the potential of reintroducing navigability through boating services within a Transit-Oriented Development (TOD) and devised a strategic plan that could be replicated for canal revival elsewhere. At the neighborhood scale, a transit station was designed as the first point of interaction with the canal during daily commutes. At the same time, edge treatments were proposed to encourage frequent community engagement. By prioritizing ecological, social, political, and urban layers, the project demonstrated how the tenfold reading adapts: one thesis may begin with spiritual and cultural roots, another with ecology, urban, and governance, yet both arrive at a design that belongs.
Why It Matters Today
Architecture today confronts urgent headwinds, such as climate strain, urban sprawl, cultural flattening, and energy-hungry construction. Too often, generic solutions erase identity and neglect local realities. New Contextualism offers a counterpoint: design that is specific, contextual, and socially purposeful. It leverages history without nostalgia, embraces innovation as service, and aligns form-making with cultural and ecological continuity.
When the ten-layer lens works in concert with the five principles, we produce buildings and spaces that are lower-carbon, more inclusive, and genuinely loved. That is resilience, relevance, and responsibility by design. Think of context as melody, and design as harmony. Together, they can make spaces that honor memory, welcome life, and truly belong.
References
- Frampton, K. (1983). Towards a critical regionalism: Six points for an architecture of resistance. In H. Foster (Ed.), The anti-aesthetic: Essays on postmodern culture (pp. 16–30). Bay Press.
- Gehl, J. (2010). Cities for people. Island Press.
- Jacobs, J. (1961). The death and life of great American cities. Random House.
- Lynch, K. (1960). The image of the city. MIT Press.
- Relph, E. (1976). Place and placelessness. Pion.
- Reza, M. H. (2024, November 9). New contextualism: An architectural philosophy for deltaic Bangladesh. The Daily Star. https://www.thedailystar.net/opinion/focus/news/new-contextualism-architectural-philosophy-deltaic-bangladesh-3878456
- Reza, M. H. (2024, December 26). New contextualism: A path to sustainable and equitable future. The Business Standard. https://www.tbsnews.net/features/habitat/new-contextualism-path-sustainable-and-equitable-future-760366
About the Author:
Mohammad Habib Reza is an architectural and urban design theorist, historian and heritage expert, and an Associate Professor at the School of Architecture and Design, BRAC University, Dhaka.
Upama Das Nitu graduated with High Distinction in Architecture from BRAC University, where she now serves as a Lecturer in the Department of Architecture. Beyond academia, she is also an artist and founder of “Pencillic,” a creative platform merging art, architecture, and entrepreneurship.
