Reflections on Architectural Education in the Global South
In recent times, I’ve been contemplating how architectural education can genuinely mirror the cultural identities and specific needs of local communities. In several countries of the Global South, initiatives are emerging that offer educational approaches in architecture deeply rooted in local cultural contexts.
African Futures Institute (AFI) – Accra, Ghana
Founded by Lesley Lokko in 2021, the AFI positions itself as an innovative institution focused on the decolonization of architectural knowledge. Its pedagogical approach is built upon three pillars: education, research, and public events.
Theories and Figures Studied
Decolonization of Knowledge: AFI’s programs incorporate critical readings on race, culture, and architecture, notably through works like White Papers, Black Marks: Race, Culture, Architecture, edited by Lesley Lokko.
Contemporary African Figures: AFI highlights African architects and thinkers such as Francis Kéré, David Adjaye, and Mariam Kamara, exploring their contributions to contextual and sustainable architecture.
Practices and Sites Analyzed
Nomadic African Studio: This immersive program allows students to explore sites like the informal neighborhoods of Accra, collaborating with local artisans to understand urban dynamics and vernacular construction practices.
Collaborative Workshops: AFI organizes workshops with local communities, promoting a participatory approach to architectural design.
École Nationale d’Architecture (ENA) – Rabat, Morocco
Established in 1980, ENA is Morocco’s first architecture school, offering training focused on integrating traditional construction techniques and understanding local cultural contexts.
Theories and Figures Studied
Vernacular Architecture: ENA offers modules on traditional Moroccan architecture, analyzing design principles of medinas, kasbahs, and riads, highlighting figures like Hassan Fathy, known for his work on earthen architecture.
Islamic Urbanism: Students study urban planning concepts derived from Islamic tradition, such as organizing neighborhoods around mosques and public squares.
Practices and Sites Analyzed
Traditional Construction Techniques: ENA teaches the use of local materials like rammed earth, pisé, zellige, and carved wood, in collaboration with specialized artisans.
Case Studies: Students analyze heritage sites such as the medina of Fez, the kasbah of Aït Ben Haddou, and the riads of Marrakech to understand the interactions between architecture, culture, and environment.
Nelson Mandela University (NMU) – Port Elizabeth, South Africa
Since 2015, NMU’s School of Architecture has been engaging in community-based research projects in partnership with First Indigenous Peoples leaders and community members in the Nelson Mandela Bay Municipality and its vicinity.
Theories and Figures Studied
Indigenous Knowledge Systems (IKS): Under the leadership of Dr. Magda Minguzzi, NMU focuses on the study and integration of Indigenous knowledge systems into architectural education, emphasizing the importance of cultural re-appropriation and reconnecting First Peoples with their heritage sites.
Practices and Sites Analyzed
Design-Build Projects: NMU conducts design-build projects such as the Masinyusane Community Development Centre, involving students in hands-on construction experiences that incorporate Indigenous building techniques.
Heritage Site Engagement: Research projects involve site visits to culturally significant locations like the Camdeboo National Park, where Indigenous leaders perform rituals to re-establish spiritual and cultural bonds with the land.
Madagascar: Challenges and Opportunities
Madagascar, with its rich cultural heritage and unique biodiversity, faces several challenges in architectural education:
Lack of Specialized Institutions: There is a scarcity of institutions dedicated to architectural education and very few that focus on local materials, traditional construction techniques, and vernacular design.
Urbanization Pressures: Rapid urbanization, especially in cities like Antananarivo, has led to informal settlements and unplanned urban growth, necessitating context-specific architectural solutions.
Preservation of Vernacular Architecture: Traditional Malagasy architecture, such as the wooden houses of the Highlands, is under threat due to modernization and lack of preservation efforts.
Opportunities
Integration of Local Knowledge: Developing curricula that incorporate Indigenous building practices and local materials can foster sustainable and culturally relevant architecture.
Community Engagement: Engaging local communities in the design and construction process can ensure that architectural solutions meet the actual needs of the population.
International Collaboration: Partnering with institutions like AFI, ENA, and NMU can provide valuable insights and frameworks for developing architectural education tailored to Madagascar’s unique context.
These initiatives demonstrate that architectural education rooted in local cultural and social realities is not only possible but essential to address contemporary challenges. They offer inspiring avenues for the development of similar programs in Madagascar, valuing heritage, vernacular knowledge, and community engagement.
photo : I found this Zafimaniry door in the backoffice of a very prestigious educational entity…they didn’t know what to with it
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There is (still) no school of architecture in Madagascar.
And perhaps it’s precisely this absence — this institutional silence — that gives weight to a fundamental question:
If such a school were to exist, what pedagogical and philosophical approach should it take?
It’s impossible to ignore the context: a territory deeply shaped by colonial history, by vernacular forms that tell stories of climate, land, ancestry — and, in contrast, imported references, often applied without context or critical distance.
Decolonial theories in architecture don’t call for a nostalgic return to an idealized past. They offer something else:
– an unlearning of dominant Western canons, to make space for other narratives, other ways of designing and inhabiting space;
– a revaluation of local knowledge — materials, spatial practices, construction rituals — not as folklore, but as legitimate theoretical and practical foundations;
– a reintroduction of the political: who builds space? for whom? to what end? and with what consequences for communities and territories?
Thinkers and practitioners like Lesley Lokko in Ghana, Francis Kéré in Burkina Faso, or the DAAR collective in Palestine, have shown it is possible to build pedagogies that are rooted, critical, and unruly. Publications like The Funambulist, and emerging schools across Africa and South Asia, are redrawing the contours of architectural thinking: plural, situated, and attentive to power and place.
So if we were to imagine a school of architecture here — in Tana, Fianarantsoa, Majunga or elsewhere — what would it train? BIM technicians? Copy-paste villa designers? Or spatial practitioners able to read the land, the stories, the frictions of a place?
Can we found a school without asking what it recenters, what it liberates, and what kind of world it helps us imagine — and build?
this post should have been written in Malagasy but again nothing is really Malgache anymore in Madagascar so what’s the point. for instance the photo here is from this project we built in Tsaralalana where facade don’t look the same as in the design anymore even though I spent days explaining the meaning of natural ventilation and shadings and wood as natural material to break the distinctive very transformed colonial design in the neighborhood. They ended up using Alucobond and me withdrawing yet again from a project.
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Are we training architects — or executors?
There are questions that should come before we choose course modules, instructors, or rendering techniques. What are we training for? Who are we training for? And with what references?
In Madagascar, there is still no national school of architecture, nor a fully recognized higher institute dedicated to the arts or spatial disciplines. Most of the programs that do exist — often tied to engineering or technical faculties — train technicians, operators, executors. Rarely do they cultivate thinkers of space: people capable of reading land, understanding sociohistorical layers, and positioning themselves critically in the act of design.
That said, it would be unfair to say nothing is happening. Within university circles, discussions around heritage, territory, and identity are emerging. Dedicated researchers and artists are holding the line — even if often without stable funding or formal pedagogical space. But in the absence of an institution with a clear philosophical and architectural vision, these efforts remain fragmented and dependent on individual momentum.
Meanwhile, let’s not forget that even in France — whose model still strongly influences our institutions — architecture schools were opened to wider social and intellectual diversity only in the 1960s, following student and intellectual movements that challenged elitism and the Beaux-Arts legacy. Before that, architecture was mostly passed down through master-apprentice structures or reserved for those with strong cultural capital.
Elsewhere, Asian architecture schools (such as those in Japan, India, or Southeast Asia producing Doshis, Seijimas, Liu Jiakun you name ’em Pritzkers) have in some cases developed models that integrate cultural continuity, climate adaptation, and artisanal knowledge into the design process. Studio projects don’t shy away from the vernacular — they often begin there, as a matter of intellectual integrity.
In contrast, here — in most architecture-related training programs — the exercise still revolves around: applying imported foreign norms (Eurocodes anyone?), replicating models, validating familiar aesthetics. And soon enough, rigor is confused with obedience. We produce technically competent professionals (indeed very cheap exploitable offshore labor), fluent in 3D modeling and engineering codes — but unable to think architecture as a cultural act embedded in place, time, and society.
In Madagascar, this absence of critical framing is especially urgent. We’ve inherited a gaze shaped by colonial systems: one that rendered our own spatial practices invisible or illegitimate. Floor plans are judged “disorderly.” Courtyards are labeled “wasted space.” Earth and timber are still seen as “non-durable.” But who decided what counts as architecture — and what doesn’t?
And more than that: training architects is not enough. We also need to engage clients, public institutions, and everyday users. Because as long as architectural value is judged by glossy finishes or mimicry of “capital city prestige,” we are only reinforcing dependency and alienation.
Architectural quality is also about what people expect, ask for, and recognize as meaningful.
So, if a school of architecture were to be founded here — what would it teach? A generic vocabulary of “contemporary design” — disconnected from land, memory, and community? Or a method for reading space like a layered text — full of tension, history, and possibility?
Training architects is not about producing façade designers. It’s about forming critical minds, rooted postures, and cultural stewards. It’s about learning to unlearn — and reclaiming authorship. And above all, asking one question: “Who does this project serve — and who does it forget?”
A client last week told me my work felt grounded, authentic — even refined. I smiled. Most of it happens at my dad’s old desk, between a tupperware of menakely, with a barely charged laptop — about as charged as I am most days. Another architect said it all looked a bit chaotic. she used that tone with a great deal of disdain. I learnt she left the country. doing great abroad. That other one (now addicted to VVPRs flying high with VVIPs) just told to my face that I was cheap. Fair enough. out here I’ve learned to trust the mess.
That’s what staying rooted looks like, sometimes: a bit tired, slightly off-balance — but still entirely present.
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