Concrete without a heart: How modern housing undermined Kuwait’s urban cohesion

• Many of Kuwait’s current problems – poor walkability, urban sprawl, heavy car reliance, and high energy consumption – are closely tied to this structural shift in housing design.
• The disappearance of the courtyard was not cosmetic; it redefined the relationship between home and city.
• Reimagining Kuwait’s urban future does not mean copying the past, but recognizing the intelligence of courtyard-based design.
• Without reviving its underlying logic in contemporary forms, urban solutions will remain superficial, treating symptoms rather than the root cause.

Kuwait’s urban challenges are often attributed to rapid expansion, car dependency, and post-oil economic change. While these factors are significant, they do not fully explain the depth of the crisis.

A more fundamental transformation lies in the disappearance of the inner courtyard, a central element that once shaped both the house and the city.

In traditional Kuwaiti architecture, the courtyard was the heart of the home, organizing movement, light, ventilation, and social life. Houses expanded outward from this core, creating compact, cohesive neighborhoods where the structure of the dwelling was reflected in the layout of streets and districts.

With modern planning, this logic was reversed. Homes became isolated units on individual plots, surrounded by side setbacks that serve little functional or urban purpose.

The result was not only the loss of meaningful internal space, but also the weakening of the relationship between the house, the street, and the neighborhood.

This shift is particularly significant because Kuwait’s urban fabric is dominated by ordinary residential buildings rather than landmark structures.

These “background buildings” define the city’s scale and character. When the courtyard disappeared from this repetitive architecture, the impact was multiplied across the entire city.

The loss of the courtyard also erased the spatial hierarchy that once guided movement from private to public spaces. Traditional homes used intermediate zones to soften this transition, while modern designs created abrupt boundaries, producing neighborhoods with little spatial depth and weak human interaction.

Environmentally, the courtyard functioned as a natural climate regulator, reducing heat, improving airflow, and controlling light. Its absence has increased dependence on air conditioning and insulation, turning an architectural change into a city-wide energy challenge.

Urban density was also affected. Traditional compact layouts made efficient use of land and infrastructure. Modern detached patterns require longer roads and service networks, increasing costs and weakening urban cohesion.

The contrast is clear in cities like Barcelona, where residential blocks with internal courtyards continue to regulate light, air, and movement.

There, everyday architecture is treated as the foundation of urban performance, not a secondary concern.

Many of Kuwait’s current problems – poor walkability, urban sprawl, heavy car reliance, and high energy consumption – are closely tied to this structural shift in housing design.

The disappearance of the courtyard was not cosmetic; it redefined the relationship between home and city.

Reimagining Kuwait’s urban future does not mean copying the past, but recognizing the intelligence of courtyard-based design.

Without reviving its underlying logic in contemporary forms, urban solutions will remain superficial, treating symptoms rather than the root cause.