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What Foreign Architects Get Wrong in the Global South – Common Edge
The Calabar International Convention Centre (CICC), designed by the Danish firm Henrik Larsen and completed for nearly $90 million, was intended as a symbol of progress. Commissioned by Nigeria’s Cross-River State government after an international competition, it has faced criticism for its high cost and cultural-deafness to its surroundings. The building’s form and materials bear little connection to the local landscape or the people it was meant to serve. Locals have also argued that the money could have been used far more effectively to improve healthcare, public schools, and other aspects of life for citizens. Since its completion in 2015, the building has been largely underutilized and even became a target of arson and looting during the 2020 #EndSARS protests, when parts of it were torched, leaving behind a hefty repair bill and a bitter reminder of the misplaced priorities that birthed it.
This building is not unique. Controversies surrounding vanity projects in the Global South have ignited a broader and long-standing debate about the influence of foreign architects in the region. The backlash against these projects highlights deep-seated frustrations, both within the local architectural community and among residents who increasingly question the dominance of external influences in shaping their built environments. While this issue has sparked industry tensions, its roots extend beyond professional rivalries. This is more than just a professional dispute among architects—it’s a cultural, economic, and ideological struggle over who gets to define the future of cities and communities in the Global South. And too often, when foreign architects dominate public commissions in these regions, what gets ignored are the very people who must live with the results.
Over the years, the Nigerian Institute of Architects (NIA) has campaigned against the use of foreign designers for projects when domestic expertise was more than capable. The issue is not specific to Nigeria; in India, the Council of Architecture has repeatedly protested the preference for foreign firms in high-profile public projects, often bypassing open competitions and transparent procurement processes. Similarly, the Ghanaian Institute of Architects has also protested the award of multiple public project briefs to a foreign architecture firm, while ignoring local architects. These grievances reflect a broader frustration across the Global South: the sense that local professionals are being sidelined in favor of global “starchitects” who bring prestige but often lack a deep understanding of the communities they’re designing for.
This is not about nationalism in its narrow sense, but about fairness, especially for countries where most architects often earn less than $400-a-month; the sight of foreign firms receiving commissions worth tens of millions of dollars naturally creates resentments.
To those left out, the message is clear: their ideas and labor, their very presence, are expendable. This exclusionary pattern often stems from opaque decision-making processes that prioritize global branding over local needs. In fact, foreign commissions often skip transparency altogether. Deals are struck in ministerial offices, sealed by handshakes with politicians who crave monuments to vanity and a cynical desire to burnish their tainted images. For them, a glittering new building designed by foreign architects offers international prestige. Whether the community actually needs or can afford that building becomes secondary.
Too often, these projects become conduits for corruption. Money meant for schools, roads, or hospitals is funneled into concrete and steel. In cities where running water is unreliable and power cuts are routine, governments spend millions on architectural spectacle. The gulf between need and reality becomes an indictment, not just of political leadership but of the profession itself. Beyond the financial misallocation, these prestige-driven initiatives frequently rely on superficial partnerships that fail to integrate local knowledge, resulting in designs that are out of touch with on-the-ground realities.
On paper, most Global South countries require foreign architects to work with local partners. In practice, these “collaborations” are tokenistic. Local firms are often little more than signatures on official documents. Designs are conceived in studios in London, Milan, and New York, with minimal input from those who understand the climate, culture, and daily rhythms of the people the buildings are intended to serve.
The results are predictable: buildings that look impressive in glossy renderings but falter in reality. Glass facades in tropical cities trap heat, demanding energy-guzzling air conditioning. Imported styles ignore indigenous wisdom and centuries-old techniques of shading, ventilation, and adaptation. A skyscraper might photograph well for...