„STOP PREACHING – START DEMONSTRATING“

You mentioned your work with the UN. What does that engagement look like
in practice?

In the last three years, I’ve been working closely with various UN bodies. The challenge is: landscape architecture is incredibly broad, which means we must engage with multiple UN departments – sometimes seven or eight at once. We began our work with UN-Habitat, which focuses on urban development. They’re very action-oriented, which allowed us to make some early progress. We’re also working with the UN-Environment Programme, where engagement is more complex but equally important. The UN gives us a platform to advocate for the profession – especially in places where support, training and formal recognition are lacking. It’s a space where we can help build capacity, both through education and professional development. Because unless you’re present at the table, you don’t exist. If we’re not there, no one knows what we offer.

You’ve lived and worked in New Zealand for many years. What can the world learn from Indigenous knowledge about landscape?

So much. For me, working with Māori communities has been deeply transformative. The Māori view of nature is one of deep relation. They don’t try to control nature – they live with it, as part of it. Western thinking tends to dominate and exploit nature – and then we’re surprised when it turns against us. The Māori see the landscape as part of their identity. They say things like “I belong to this mountain” or “I am part of this river.” It’s not symbolic – it’s deeply real. The landscape defines who they are. They don’t separate physical, spiritual, mental and communal aspects – it’s all one system. If one part is out of balance, everything is.

Even flooding is seen differently. In the West, it’s a problem. But for the Māori, it’s a blessing – a way to restore the land. The same view existed in ancient Egypt. Floods of the Nile were used to refresh the soil. What moved me most: after a successful legal case against the government, a Māori tribe received financial compensation. What did they do with the money? They restored wetlands and native forests. They could have bought houses or cars –instead, they chose to heal the land. Because they under- stand: if the land is healthy, we are healthy.

How can that knowledge be applied in highly urbanised Western contexts?

First, we need to rethink our approach. In architecture, the focus is often on the object – the building – and not the context. That‘s why the skylines of Singapore and Montreal can look almost identical, despite completely different climates. Landscape architecture is the opposite. It’s always context-specific. We work with the local soil, climate, culture, plants, and people. We need to stop exporting generic solutions around the world. Instead, we must read the landscape – learn what is unique to each place. Why import marble from Turkey to New Zealand when we have beautiful local stone? Indigenous knowledge reminds us to ask: What belongs here? What works here? And that applies not just globally – but locally. You can’t compare Hamburg to Munich. Or Auckland to Christchurch. Every site is different.

And there’s another aspect: the construction industry is one of the biggest polluters on the planet. Even when using local materials, building something new has a footprint. So instead, let’s focus on upcycling and reusing what we already have.

Let’s end on a hopeful note: what gives you optimism about the future – for the planet and your profession?

What gives me hope is this: to save our planet and ourselves, we will need landscapes – and landscape architects. There’s no way around that. Our profession matters, and I believe we will play a crucial role in shaping a liveable future. I also believe that in the years to come, cities will emerge that put landscapes first – cities that accommodate people of all ages, all backgrounds, and all needs, through spaces that are both ethically and ecologically sound.

Yes, the current situation is serious. But this is not the time for cleavage. We have one planet. There is no second Earth for different political parties or ideologies. If we fail to act, it won’t be us who suffer most – it will be our children and grandchildren. And they’re already scared. They’re looking at an uncertain future. So let’s get serious. Let’s stop repeating what we already know and start sharing the solutions that are already working. Let’s give landscape ist rightful place – not as a second thought, but as the foundation for everything we build.